by Ronnie Lee
Always an amazing experience here in Puerto Vallarta. Thousands upon thousands and thousands of people from December 1st to December 12th come to the Parroquia, the Our Lady of Guadalupe Church, to show their devotion.
December 12th, the last night, The Pilgrimage of the Favored, is the largest procession, drawing up to 20,000 devotees.
Colorful papel picado flags waving overhead, streets blocked with tables and people. The air is thick with the smells of homemade Mexican food.
On this, the final day, people made their way nonstop to the church from everywhere, some crawling on their knees, walking barefoot…and bells constantly ringing. Each person often brings a donation… food, flowers, etc, carrying infants, some dressed as Juan Diego and some as the Lady of Guadalupe. A hot, steamy mass of people.
I was swept up with the sights and smells. The crowd moved like a constant undulating wave, the throng gently moved me into the church. We flowed as a warm current. Beautific smiles accepting me into their midst. I could feel the sound of the bells in my bones.
The inside of the church was bathed in bright light reflecting off the white walls. Quite a contrast to the darkness outside.
We were literally being drawn to the light. The ceiling of the church seemed to go on forever. Blue swaths of cloth were draped throughout. Dark blue, light blue, like the sky and the ocean. Calming.
I was enveloped in the warmth of this beautiful brown crowd. A constant trickle of sweat rolled down the back of my legs.
Gold sparkled from the decorations throughout the entire church, and the heavy golden altar was filled with huge flower arrangements, one after the other, gilded angels and swans. Above the altar is the simple portrait of Guadalupe with her green cloak covered in stars.
I am a Jewish woman originally from New York. And here I am in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico at the holiest time of the year, sandwiched amidst the very old and the very young. I was overwhelmed and excited. I felt honored and at one with the people around me. Their fans moving the thick hot air between us.
The walls vibrating with the oom pa pa of the tuba and the banging of dozens of snare drums. The constant singing of the song La Guadalupana.
“From heaven on a beautiful morning,
The Guadalupan Lady came down to Tepeyac.
Her arrival filled with happiness,
With light and harmony
the whole Anáhuac.
By the mountain Juan Diego was passing,
He approached quickly when he heard singing.
“Little Juan Diego,” the Virgin said,
“This hill I choose for my altar to be built.”
Pleading, she joined her hands,
They were Mexican, Her stance and Her Face.
And on the tilma that was painted among roses,
Her beloved image,
She deigned to leave.
Since then, for the Mexican
To be a Guadalupan is something essential.
In their sorrows, they prostrate on their knees,
And they raise their eyes to Tepeyac.
Dear Mother of the Mexicans,
You are in Heaven
Pray to God for us.”
These devoted people with honesty and purity reach for the best in all of us. Hoping for a future of goodness and miracles.
The essence of all religions is goodness, isn’t it.
They come with love in their hearts, singing, dancing, and playing music. They come to pay homage to Our Lady. They come to be blessed. You can feel the devotion; you can feel the love.
I did.
