IV. A LONG-LIVED FASCINATION WITH MEXICO: THE CONSEQUENCES OF JOSE'S INSTRUCTION

To say that my brief time with our guide Jose was an eye-opener would be an understatement, for he set the wheels of my twelve-year-old brain turning as they had never turned before.  In effect, my very brief first visit to Mexico had turned out to be a cultural epiphany, opening up new ways of viewing people and their histories.  In the course of our dialog, it occurred to me that in order to understand people as they grouped themselves into nations and cultures, I had to know not only their chronological histories, but also their forms of expression, both physical and spiritual, and what the sum total of their various experiences produced in terms of shared identities.

As for the Virgin of Guadalupe, she came to occupy a substantial portion of my imagination, for even them I was drawn toward mystery and how the imagination might reveal areas of truth untouched by what I would later learn to call empirical inquiry.  For the time being, the Lady of Guadalupe became my passport for initial entry into the Mexican psyche, affording me a glimpse into what it meant to be "Mexican."

I would find my boundaries greatly expanded a year and a half later, when I was fortunate to encounter a young fellow history traveler who would prove to be my best friend through high school and college.  After spending his initial school years at Sacred Heart School in Poplar Bluff, my friend made the transition to the public junior high school, where his inquiring mind and efforts to probe more deeply beyond the cursory teaching of history that passed as education at that time enabled me to quickly identify him as a kindred spirit.  It was through my friendship with him that I would learn of other Marian apparitions that had occurred in scattered venues across the globe. Being consequently somewhat better informed, I began the process of of placing the Virgin of Guadalupe in historical context, an ongoing process which continues to this day.

It is for certain that my friend and I were seen as being somewhat odd for that time in Poplar Bluff, Missouri.  What especially set us apart from our contemporaries, I think, were our lunchtime discussions on such topics as the toppling of the Mohamed Mossadegh government in Iran, the CIA-backed coup against the Arbenz government in Guatemala, the 1956 Hungarian Revolution and the progress of the Cuban fighters in the Sierra Madre against the Batista regime.  Our junior high acquaintances  who habitually had lunch with us at Nick's Steel Grill in downtown Poplar Bluff never tired of referring to us as "eggheads." 

Our final full day in Monterrey would be a Sunday.  Ever the stickler for regular church attendance, my father located a Protestant chapel nearby our hotel.  Although the language of the service was, of course, Spanish,  I very much enjoyed the choir and the congregational singing of hymns.  I also recall that we were warmly greeted by the pastor and members of the congregation.

Since the next day would be a long day of driving,  Dad decided that the remainder of Sunday would be devoted to rest and relaxation.  In that spirit, we had an early dinner and by 7 PM, my father had retired to his bed.  It was then that I engaged in an act of filial disobedience that I would not admit of for nearly twenty years.

At the onset of my father's snoring, I quietly slipped out of our room and made for the nearby main plaza.  It was soon dark and, as I sat by myself, I became a keen observer of what was transpiring. There was a musical group of students performing,  but what most drew my attention were ongoing processions around the plaza, one of young men and the other of young women, each going in opposite directions.  It did not take me long to discern that those doing the processing were ogling each other, while older ladies seated on the sidelines were serving as chaperones. I would later learn that the older ladies were called "duenas" and that what I had observed was a courting ritual called the "paseo."

By 10 PM I had returned to the Ancira and, as unobtrusively as possible, managed to get into my bed without waking my father, who never expected that his son had been out and about.  I did not fall asleep immediately.  Instead I mulled over my experience of the last three days.  Finally, concluding that Mexico was a far different place than Poplar Bluff, I fell into a deep sleep from which I awoke at 7 AM the next morning.

In all the years that have gone by, I have never wavered from my youthful conclusion.  Mexico is, indeed, a very different place.  In fact, I would be hard-pressed to name two countries sharing common borders that are as different as Mexico and the United States.  It is that dissimilarity that was observed by a twelve-year-old boy some sixty years ago that has continued to account for my fascination with the land that lies to the south of the Rio Grande.

A LONG-LIVED FASCINATION WITH MEXICO

III.  THE TRIP:  MONTERREY

Saturday dawned bright and beautiful. By 8:30, we had been served our breakfast; and, despite my father's entreaties, I had demolished a plate full of huevos rancheros in record time. Shortly thereafter, Jose arrived at the Ancira.  Despite the prospect of an exciting itinerary, which included visits to the Cuautemoc-Moctezuma Brewery and the Government Palace, I immediately let lose a volley of questions concerning the woman in the cloak. Thankfully, I was promised by Jose that he would satisfy my curiosity during the course of the day.

At that particular stage of my life, breweries had not yet captured my fancy.  Nevertheless, I did enjoy hearing how German immigrants had arrived at the end of the 19th century and how their presence had been crucial in establishing a thriving beer industry in Monterrey.

The government palace was indeed beautiful, bespeaking well of Nuevo Leon in an architectural style that I would later learn was French-classical.  Later, in taking my knowledge of Mexican history to another level, I would understand that more than a few Mexican political exiles in the mid-19th century passed their banishments in France, where they were imbued with appreciation for French culture, including French architecture, which they tended to copy after their return to Mexico.

Finally, after leaving the Government Palace, I was able to impress upon Jose my keenness to commence learning about the lady whose likenesses I had seen throughout Monterrey.  Thus began my introduction to the Virgin of Guadalupe.

Jose proved to be a patient teacher who enlightened me on the Spanish conquest, emphasizing how indigenous cultures and religions had been devastated by the Conquistadors.  With my father's approval, we stopped at one of Monterrey's beautiful parks and spent at least an hour and a half listening to Jose's interpretation of early colonial Mexican history.  I was especially intrigued by his ability to explain how Mesoamerican practices had been interwoven into the Mexican expression of Spanish Catholicism and had survived in a unique syncretic form of Christianity. Moving on, Jose next led me into a biblical description of the lady whose likeness had made such a decided impression on me.

Following up on my interest of the previous day, Jose had brought with him a Spanish Bible, within which he directed my attention to the Book of Revelation and a passage which described a young woman cloaked with stars, surrounded by the rays of the sun and standing on the moon.  This was the apocalyptic description of the Holy Mother, the Mother of Christ.

Although having a passing acquaintance with the Conquest, I was not totally familiar with its chronology.  With a quick rundown, Jose took me from the fall of Tenochtitlan in 1521 up to 1531, the traditional date of the apparition of the Virgin of Guadalupe.  He had my total attention, as he told the story of Juan Diego, an Indian peasant who had converted to Christianity, and how he had been passing Tepeyac Hill, outside the city now called Mexico, which had been erected on the ruins of Tenochtitlan.  Juan Diego, according to the story, had been on his way to mass, but heard a voice summoning him to the crest of the hill on a Saturday during the month of December.

Climbing the hill, Juan Diego encountered a beautiful young woman, before whom he bowed down in adoration.  Dressed in raiment such as that described in Revelation, the Virgin implored him to convey to Juan de Zumarraga, the Franciscan bishop of Mexico, her desire to have a chapel on the hill as a means of showing her love for her people.  Juan Diego did indeed manage to see the bishop but was turned away for having no visible proof of his story.

On the following day, Juan Diego was once again traveling in the vicinity of Tepeyac Hill, this time in search of a priest to administer last rites to his uncle.  Despite his best efforts to avoid the hill, he again heard the sweet, melodic voice of the Virgin, who told him that all would be well with his uncle and that she was not finished with the chore which she had commanded Juan Diego to undertake.

This time, the Virgin indicated that she would send Juan Diego to the bishop with a sign. Following her instructions, Juan Diego removed his "tilma," or cloak, within which the Virgin placed a bouquet of Castilian roses, a miracle in itself, as roses would not ordinarily be growing in such surroundings, especially in December.  For the second time, Juan Diego went before the bishop.  This time he unfolded his cloak and not only did the garment contain roses, but upon it there was emblazoned the image of the Virgin.  Significantly, the image presented was that of a Virgin with brown skin, very much like the complexions of the Indian populations of Mexico.

Subsequently, according to Jose, chapels were built on the hillside which came to be called Guadalupe.  The dark-skinned Virgin became the patroness of Mexico, and pilgrimages would be undertaken to honor her there, as the Virgin of Guadalupe would draw the dark-skinned masses of Mexico to a mass conversion to Catholicism.

TO BE CONTINUED