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Archive for October, 2022

Monday Random

Yup, still in Guanajuato. Find posts on the trip here.

No matter how one chooses to look at it—as a night in which spirits “com’st in…questionable shape” (Hamlet 1.4), as a holiday to remember “the faithful departed,” as an absurd festival of manmade depravity—Halloween keeps open the wound of negativity. Thus the danger is to let it idly pass by, doling out mini 3 Muskateers bars and sipping on Pumpkin Ale even as mystery, both beautiful and fearful, goes on all around us.

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Music and processions…that was Sunday for you. Or me. Perhaps for both of us!

(The usual reminder to click on photos for larger versions, and to head to Instagram for more photos and video. I will eventually do regular posts for each day, but for now if you’re interested, head to Stories and Story Highlights. And there is a lot of video from Sunday.)

There are a few dozen churches here, so I’m sure I could have strolled into any one of them at any time Sunday morning (or late afternoon/early evening) and found a Mass in progress, no problem. I decided to go with a known quantity, however – the only church I could easily find Mass times for, which was the Iglesia de la Compañía, first visited on this day.

I headed over for 10:30 Mass, arrived just about at 10:30 to find a…jam-packed, every seat and most of the aisles full church. Well, okay, New Evangelization or Old Evangelization good job, I guess. I was confused, though, because I could not figure out what part of Mass this was – the priest was talking, but he was just…talking. It wasn’t the introductory rite. And he kept talking. Said something about no agua. And then performed a blessing. And then a bunch of people started leaving – oh, the people leaving are the people jamming the aisles who are carrying banner, horns and drums. Drums which they started beating on almost as soon as they left the church building in which…Mass was beginning. It was a little chaotic there for about ten minutes.

So I’m guessing that these groups – all some “battalion” of a Banda de Guerra – attended the previous Mass, and received a blessing before their procession. I have no idea what they were about – they were mostly young people and they processed onward, beating drums. No idea. And that was only the first procession of the day.

But even after they departed, the church was still full. I sort of wish I’d gone to the previous Mass, not for the Banda de Guerra element, but because at the end of that Mass, the organists was playing a bit, very beautifully, but for the 10:30, we had electric guitar and drums, so yeah. I would have liked to hear that organ.

After Mass, I headed straight to the Teatro Juarez, the gorgeous theater in the center of town, for one of the few Cervantino events I could get a ticket for – a concert by the King’s Singers.

On the way:

The theater is a jewelbox, and it was such a privilege and pleasure to hear high-quality live music in such a setting – and just a few rows from the front! The theme of the program was “Songbirds” and was the typical King’s Singers blend of arrangements of pop songs like, well, Fleetwood Mac’s Songbird with pieces from, here, Poulenc, Ravel and Schubert and some medieval pieces. They dropped a Spanish-language piece in the middle which got a lot of applause when they first started it – but I have no idea what it was, unfortunately.

For one of their encores, they did a fun medley of some popular Mexican songs including, of course,  Cielito lindo, which I’ve heard at least once a day from someone every day I’ve been here. And they ended the concert with Recuérdame from Coco – which was just about perfect – the lyrics signaled, yeah, folks this the end, no more encores, it’s a perfect song for well, musicians to bade farewell, and whether they intended it to or not, it fits with Dios de Muertos.

The funicular line was long, so I headed up the stairs – I had another concert a bit later, and wanted a break. When I returned around 3, I heard a band – not a mariachi, but a marching band – which is sign of one thing: Procession time!

It was not the Banda de Guerra, but a smaller procession in honor of St. Jude. There was a platform with his statue, a single band, and a red car with a statue of the Blessed Virgin on top bringing up the rear. It was entertaining watching them make their way through the centro crowds and make maneuvers like getting the platform to clear some low-hanging wires. To get the full impact, yes, head to Instagram.

Then it was back to Iglesia de la Compañía for another concert, this one from young pianist Vladimir Petrov. Petrov was born in Russia, but his family moved to Mexico when he was 3. He has won several competitions and studies now in Russia. It was a fantastic concert, but with the worst program notes ever – we had to scan a QR code and what came up was only a little helpful: He’ll play three Rachmaninoff Preludes and a nice Tchaikovsky nocturne, etc. I recognized one of the Rachmaninoffs – it was this one, and one of my favorites, but as to the others, no idea. Ended with a Prokofiev Sonata, which was fantastic, but again – which one?

I stayed around for a bit after the concert to watch them take down the piano. They wrapped most of it in shrink-wrap, then put the cushioned fabric cover on it, then shrink-wrapped every inch of that, then affixed two wooden crate like objects on the side, turned it on its side and then removed the legs. The crate-like sections had rectangular holes along them into which wide straps with loops on both ends were slipped. Three men on each side put the loops over one shoulder, kneeling, and then stood up, carrying the piano off the platform that way, until they could put it on a dolly. Fascinating.

At the same time, the priest and his helpers were rolling the carpet out,  setting the altar and ambo back up, and putting out the vessels. It was all done in twenty minutes, and then the six o’clock Mass began.

Time to wander down among the fairly massive crowds (again), see Not Robert Downey, Jr., have a perfect little dinner of enchiladas – what we call enchiladas are stuffed full of stuff – but these street enchiladas are made of tortillas warmed/fried in sauce, sprinkled with a little cheese, folded, then topped first with a combination of carrots, squash and onions that’s been sauteed in the same sauce – and then the normal toppings of shredded cabbage, crema and verde sauce. It was delicious. I also enjoyed some more music and enjoyed the crowd enjoying the music most of all. I don’t know what the songs were, but they all knew them, and sang along.

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Not quite as much walking on Saturday, but even so, one thing became clear to me Saturday night – I can cross the funicular off my transportation options from mid-afternoon on at least for the next day or so. It’s a holiday weekend, so folks are flocking to town and La Pipila is a major destination – and of course if you can, you want to ride up and down, not just for the ease of it, but for the experience.

(Remember – click on photos for larger versions, and go to Instagram for videos.)

This was the crowd at La Pipila early Saturday evening:

And this was the line for the funicular to go up about 9pm Saturday night:

The line goes in a building and up some stairs, and each funicular car holds no more than 8-10 people. With about five minutes in between loads. So….

Everyday is Leg Day now…

Saturday morning, I started walking with the intention of getting a taxi up to San Cayetano for real this time (remember, I tried, unsuccessfully, on Friday). In my walk out of the pedestrian-only city center, I spied open doors on a church that had been closed every previous time because of reconstruction work they are doing. Popped in to find a small space, packed with images, of course, and also with two groups of religious education students – one younger group at the front, and an older group on the other end. It’s the Templo de San Roque.

Made my way through the already-crowded streets, found a taxi, showed him the place on my phone – and up we went.

You can read the history of the church (and, incidentally, the mine) here. Fraught, to say the least, in my opinion. It’s gorgeous, retablos covered in gold leaf, the picture frames solid gold – in gratitude to God and St. Cajetan for the discovery of the silver mines – which were mined with enslaved and indentured labor.

They manage seeing the church quite closely. The pews are roped off so you can’t sit, there are people supervising, asking you to take off your hat and reminding tour guides not to….guide while they’re inside.

I would have liked to sit for a bit and take it in, but I have no complaints with their rules, because they’re made with their own sense of the sacredness of the space in mind, probably knowing full well what havoc and disrespect tourists can bring with them.

Another taxi back down, this time directly to the bus station, so I could catch a ride to Leon.

Inter-city buses in Mexico are very comfortable, clean and efficient. Buses go between Leon and Guanajuato every twenty minutes, so I paid my 66 pesos (about $3USD), and there was a bus, just about ready to go.

I wanted to go to Leon for a few reasons: it’s a center of leather goods production, and there are heaps of leather goods vendors right outside the bus station, there’s a well-regarded museum of Guanajuato history and culture, and the cathedral – Pope Benedict visited here in 2012. Here’s his homily at vespers at that cathedral.

First stop was a short walk to the museum – admission 25 pesos – a bit more than a dollar. It was a nice museum, spacious, but not very large. There were four main exhibit spaces, only one of which is permanent. There was contemporary art in two of them, a (of course) Don Quixote exhibit in another and then the permanent space, which was very well done, but seemed incomplete – it only went up to the 18th century. There was a closed off door across the mezzanine, which seemed to me to be a continuation…oh never mind. It cost a dollar, for heaven’s sake.

From there I headed in the direction of the cathedral, which was about a 2 mile walk from the museum. I thought I’d walk it to see the city and then cab or Uber back. Which is what I did.

Leon is a huge, busy city – the center is not “charming,” but it’s clean, very busy, with lots of shopping. In gardens and plazas along the way, I saw many quinceañera photography sessions happening, and several shops like this:

Approaching the old city, I saw this looming church and thought, huh, Maps was wrong. Why did it tell me the cathedral was a mile further?

Because…this isn’t the cathedral.

I wish I had done my research and learned more about this before I’d gone – I’d have headed over earlier to give myself more time and toured the crypt as well.

Expiatory Temple of the Sacred Heart of Jesus

My preference is for colonial…well I prefer a lot of church architectural styles over Gothic, but it’s definitely impressive.

Okay. So one more mile and then, here we are:

To save time, I got an Uber back to the bus/leather area.

The driver pointed out what he claimed were the best shops. Well, no matter what, combine the lower cost of living and the made-right-here prices…and you have some deals everywhere.

Also….????

The bus ride back took less time than the first because it was non-stop. About 40 minutes or so. The main bus station in Guanajuato is pretty far out of town, so I took a taxi back, rested a bit, then went out to fight the MOBS of people in town. I had a meal in an actual restaurant, but this is long enough, so I’ll save that for the “what I ate” post. But before that…

..well, one of the most internationally well-known artists to play at this festival was Gustavo Dudamel, conductor of the LA Philharmonic. He and the orchestra (I presume just a core) have been touring and this was the last stop. My Pianist Son is a big Dudamel fan, so I’m familiar with him. Tickets for the concert last night were impossible to get, but I thought…hey. I know where the stage door is. Let’s lurk.

(I wasn’t the only one, just so you know.)

I got there about 7:35, security was fairly heavy around the door, so I knew he hadn’t yet arrived. Five minutes later…there he was. One young fellow was brave and leaped over and got a maskless selfie with him – he (the young guy) was ecstatic, and told me, as we were walking away that no he wasn’t a musician, just a fan of great music, he’d been waiting there since 5 and that tickets for the concert had sold out in an hour.

Anyway, here’s Gustavo Dudamel in a mask.

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Well, duh. Of course it was Louis IX. That was who I’d assume it was, but a quick look of images, didn’t give me the crown of thorns. Who knows. I probably entered the wrong Louis in the search box, given I was …pretty…tired.

So, let’s go – day 3.

One of the features of day 3, aside from walking was an approximately 1639% rise in the number of American voices I heard as I walked. I mean – everywhere.

So, back to the walking. The first thing I wanted to do was to see if this one church – San Francisco – which I’d walked by ten times so far, and has always been closed – was open. It wasn’t. But the little church just at the other end of the block was, so I popped in. It’s called Santa Casa de Loreto, and according to what someone said in Google reviews is “used for talks.” It’s quite small, circular, filled with saints in their garb, as it the tradition here.

Click on photos for full, large version. Videos on Instagram. For past days, check the “highlights.”

Next, time to climb. Guanajuato is in a valley, and there are a lot of good hikes in those hills. Friday, I decided to stay urban and just walk up to Mina de San Juan de Rayas. It was the first mine in Guanajuato, discovered in 1550 by a muledriver after whom it’s named.

So remember, Guanajuato is in this deep valley with basically one flat street, and then everything else running uphill from that point, on all sides. So that was my walk – up, up, up – to the first viewpoint, and then down a bit, then back up to the town and the second viewpoint and the – of course – closed church.

Next, I decided I’d either just walk back down to town (a different way) or, if I could get a taxi, go up to San Cayetano to this church.

So I started walking down the road. Within a couple of minutes, a taxi carrying a passenger passed me going up, so I assumed he’d be coming back down in a minute. He did. I hailed him, and said (I thought) Cayetano? He repeated it back to me – I thought. Nodded. I got in.

I guess my accent is much worse than I thought. I was following our route on maps, and it was fine for a couple of minutes, then just kept descending….till we ended up at the Mercado Hidalgo back in town, he put on his flashers and looked at me expectantly. Si?

Sigh. Okay. I guess God didn’t want me to go to Cayetano today. Sure. Saved me a walk down at least.

So, since I was right there, I went to the Museo Regional de Guanajuato Alhóndiga de Granaditas – you can read about its history here. The placards were all in Spanish, of course, but they did have scan codes – thanks, technology! – so you could access English-language information. I was a little scared because in the MesoAmerican room, I’ve gotten to the point where I can sort of differentiate between the cultures just by the look of the artifacts – when I said to myself without reading the card, “Oh, that’s Veracruz” – I knew my life was very strange now, thanks to kids and the way they expand your world.

Lots of Mexican Independence material, since this area was crucial to that struggle. But of most interest to me (of course) was a room full of ex-votos – I’d seen a lot at the Guadalupe shrine a few years ago. Those I highlight here seem to refer to mining accidents.

Then some shopping, lunch at a place highly recommended by another B & B guest – and yes, it was good.

Then up (on the funicular) for a rest before heading out in the night to see what was happening – and one of the things that was happening was Mass at the always-closed San Francisco, so in I headed. The priest had just begun with the Eucharistic Prayer, which was the Roman Canon, by the way. (I would like to take up a collection to purchase wireless mikes for Mexican parishes. In both Masses I’ve been to so far, the priest has held an microphone even during the consecration. Maybe get a server to hold it for you? Shrugs)

The Mass was fairly full, I’m guessing both because St. Jude seems to be an important saint in this parish (his statue was at the front) and because St. Jude is popular – there were several in the congregation holding small statues to be blessed. As per usual here, the doors to the church were open all during Mass, and so people came in and out, and street life noises – including a would-be lounge singer on the plaza – mingled with the life inside.

You might be interested, too – out of a congregation of about 70, only 9 or so received Communion. I’m used to seeing maybe 25% of predominantly Latino congregations receive Communion, and this was even lower. Interestingly, a noticeable number of people left right after the Consecration, as well.

The town was hopping – as it always seems to be. I wandered around, took in various street musicians, then decided to head back in time to get the funicular.

Hahahaha. I missed it by that much. As in – the last one was rising up the tracks as I walked through the door. Cerrado. Menana. Well, I don’t want to ride it manana, thanks.

So, up I trudged, in the process getting caught in a callejoneadas matrix (photo on the far right). Well, at least now I know their route. At one point, there was no way I could gracefully exit the situation, with callejoneadas groups on three sides…well, at least I saw the show (for free)! I think one of the situations was that this particular callejoneadas excursion was only for couples, and then they divided them into two separate groups, telling them that they were going to do separate tours – and then (at the point I arrived), they brought the men out from behind a block of buildings, up some steps to reunite with the women accompanied by some romantic song. I think that’s what was happening, anyway.

(Video on Instagram)

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Mystery Saints

I’m baffled by these two.

(Click on photos for large versions)

I don’t know if the ermine-like stole is significant or just what someone thought looked nice, as is the case with many of these dressed-up saints.

And who is this king?

He’s holding a crown of thorns on a cushion.

Ideas? Answers?

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One of the highlights of my day was not an American woman walking by me, talking on her phone, saying loudly, “You know, Latinos are very superstitious. They believe that having their photo taken steals their soul.”

Nope, not that.

Anyway, day 2 was mostly museums, wandering, and tacos. That’s really why I came: for the tacos. At a plate for about $2.50, when the same at home (authentic tacos even from a truck) run about $3.50/apiece.

First, though, two church stops.

The San Diego is right next to the Teatro Juarez. In it, a group of women were praying – not the rosary, but not sure what – and the photo I posted yesterday was from there. Later in the day, I went to the “museum” in the crypt, which is really just an excavation site of the original structure – which is interesting to see, and I suppose worth the .80 I paid for it.

(Remember – you can click on any photo of for the full version. Videos are on Instagram because I’m not going to gum up my WordPress media storage with videos. For past days, check the highlights.)

Then up to Templo de la Compañía – built by the Jesuits, but only used by them for a couple of years before they were expelled from Spain (and New Spain) – unused for a few decades, then taken by the Oratory of St. Philip Neri. It’s being used as a venue by the Cervantino music festival, and they were setting up and doing sound checks for a performance later today. It was all so interesting to watch that I probably sat there for thirty minutes – not the technical aspects of the setup, but the juxtaposition and the life going on: the sound and visual techs doing their thing, loudly, a group of mostly women gathered right in front of the stage praying, loudly, some workers up around the high interior cross, arranging flowers, tourists, random pray-ers, and then a group of children accompanied by some women and a priest in a habit I didn’t recognize (light brown – really tan – scapular over a white robe).

Then into the huge Mercado Hidalgo – lots of tourist tat on the mezzanine level, but food and your basic goods on the bottom. Across is another market which is all food stalls. The women stand up on stools, wave menus at passers-by and do this tschu-tscu sound. I went ahead and ate there – it was, of course, good – all freshly prepared, etc.

Then to the museums.

First, the Diego Rivera house and museum. Rivera was born in Guanajuato, and I knew about him was “murals” “communist” and “Frida” – so I learned a bit, even though it was all in Spanish – I can make out museum placards just fine, but don’t ask me to tell you what the funicular conductor just said to us on the way down…I hope it wasn’t important, because I have no idea.

Then to the Museo del Pueblo de Guanajuato, right next to the university. It’s a small museum with changing exhibits. Most interesting to me was a current exhibit of paintings from their collection that feature the religious orders vital to the history of New Spain. Also, the most amazing vanitas painting I’ve ever seen. (couldn’t take photos in the other parts. Probably wasn’t supposed to here, but…)

Next, Cervantes.

So, you are wondering, why is Cervantes and Don Quixote so important here? All because of one man named Ferrer: A Spaniard who fought in the Civil War against Franco, was imprisoned in a camp during World War II, but survived and emigrated to Mexico, where he became a media mogul of a sorts. But while in the camp, he had obtained and read a copy of Don Quixote, which had deeply inspired him. He began to collect everything he could related to Cervantes, funded university programs, and finally, bequeathed his collection to Guanajuato.

(Fourth “museum” was the San Diego crypt)

Came back to the B & B for a bit, then headed back down to see nightlife. Someone said “Yeah, people will start coming tomorrow for Day of the Dead” and I am at a loss to imagine what it’s going to be like. Bonkers, I’m thinking.

Loads of music everywhere – in one photo below, to the right, there’s a band playing, and then to the left – you really can’t see – there’s a crowd gathered around a rapper. Street musicians, the Callejoneadas – whom, I must add, do not do their schtick for free. They hang out all day in the town, selling tickets to their walks. I don’t know how or when they look at the tickets – seem you can just join in whenever on the way, but they must.

I also figured out the mariachi situation. The main square in front of the Teatro Juarez is surrounded by restaurants, especially on one side. I was puzzled because there are probably a dozen mariachi bands hanging out around there, and at any one time, there are two or three playing at the same time, sometimes right next to each other. It was explained to me that people pay to have the mariachi sing for them, sometimes sitting on the park benches, sometimes sitting at restaurant tables, so it is just a mariachi marketplace.

Below: food, including much corn.

And then, after posting an Instagram story about how grateful I was for the funicular so I wouldn’t have to climb up and down that hill, I discovered….I had been misinformed as to the closing time of the funicular, so up I went. It actually wasn’t as bad as I thought. And probably good for me.

Also: hmmm.

Nah, too young. But impressive commitment to the look!

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Sts. Simon and Jude – October 28

"amy welborn"

From B16, a few years ago:

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

Today, let us examine two of the Twelve Apostles: Simon the Cananaean and Jude Thaddaeus (not to be confused with Judas Iscariot). Let us look at them together, not only because they are always placed next to each other in the lists of the Twelve (cf. Mt 10: 3, 4; Mk 3: 18; Lk 6: 15; Acts 1: 13), but also because there is very little information about them, apart from the fact that the New Testament Canon preserves one Letter attributed to Jude Thaddaeus.

Simon is given a nickname that varies in the four lists: while Matthew and Mark describe him as a “Cananaean”, Luke instead describes him as a “Zealot”.

In fact, the two descriptions are equivalent because they mean the same thing: indeed, in Hebrew the verb qanà’ means “to be jealous, ardent” and can be said both of God, since he is jealous with regard to his Chosen People (cf. Ex 20: 5), and of men who burn with zeal in serving the one God with unreserved devotion, such as Elijah (cf. I Kgs 19: 10).

Thus, it is highly likely that even if this Simon was not exactly a member of the nationalist movement of Zealots, he was at least marked by passionate attachment to his Jewish identity, hence, for God, his People and divine Law.

If this was the case, Simon was worlds apart from Matthew, who, on the contrary, had an activity behind him as a tax collector that was frowned upon as entirely impure. This shows that Jesus called his disciples and collaborators, without exception, from the most varied social and religious backgrounds.

It was people who interested him, not social classes or labels! And the best thing is that in the group of his followers, despite their differences, they all lived side by side, overcoming imaginable difficulties: indeed, what bound them together was Jesus himself, in whom they all found themselves united with one another.

This is clearly a lesson for us who are often inclined to accentuate differences and even contrasts, forgetting that in Jesus Christ we are given the strength to get the better of our continual conflicts.

Let us also bear in mind that the group of the Twelve is the prefiguration of the Church, where there must be room for all charisms, peoples and races, all human qualities that find their composition and unity in communion with Jesus.

Then with regard to Jude Thaddaeus, this is what tradition has called him, combining two different names: in fact, whereas Matthew and Mark call him simply “Thaddaeus” (Mt 10: 3; Mk 3: 18), Luke calls him “Judas, the son of James” (Lk 6: 16; Acts 1: 13).

The nickname “Thaddaeus” is of uncertain origin and is explained either as coming from the Aramaic, taddà’, which means “breast” and would therefore suggest “magnanimous”, or as an abbreviation of a Greek name, such as “Teodòro, Teòdoto”.

Very little about him has come down to us. John alone mentions a question he addressed to Jesus at the Last Supper: Thaddaeus says to the Lord: “Lord, how is it that you will manifest yourself to us and not to the world?”.

This is a very timely question which we also address to the Lord: why did not the Risen One reveal himself to his enemies in his full glory in order to show that it is God who is victorious? Why did he only manifest himself to his disciples? Jesus’ answer is mysterious and profound. The Lord says: “If a man loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him” (Jn 14: 22-23).

This means that the Risen One must be seen, must be perceived also by the heart, in a way so that God may take up his abode within us. The Lord does not appear as a thing. He desires to enter our lives, and therefore his manifestation is a manifestation that implies and presupposes an open heart. Only in this way do we see the Risen One.

The paternity of one of those New Testament Letters known as “catholic”, since they are not addressed to a specific local Church but intended for a far wider circle, has been attributed to Jude Thaddaeus. Actually, it is addressed “to those who are called, beloved in God the Father and kept for Jesus Christ” (v. 1).

A major concern of this writing is to put Christians on guard against those who make a pretext of God’s grace to excuse their own licentiousness and corrupt their brethren with unacceptable teachings, introducing division within the Church “in their dreamings” (v. 8).

This is how Jude defines their doctrine and particular ideas. He even compares them to fallen angels and, mincing no words, says that “they walk in the way of Cain” (v. 11).

Furthermore, he brands them mercilessly as “waterless clouds, carried along by winds; fruitless trees in late autumn, twice dead, uprooted; wild waves of the sea, casting up the foam of their own shame; wandering stars for whom the nether gloom of darkness has been reserved for ever” (vv. 12-13).

Today, perhaps, we are no longer accustomed to using language that is so polemic, yet that tells us something important. In the midst of all the temptations that exist, with all the currents of modern life, we must preserve our faith’s identity. Of course, the way of indulgence and dialogue, on which the Second Vatican Counsel happily set out, should certainly be followed firmly and consistently.

But this path of dialogue, while so necessary, must not make us forget our duty to rethink and to highlight just as forcefully the main and indispensable aspects of our Christian identity. Moreover, it is essential to keep clearly in mind that our identity requires strength, clarity and courage in light of the contradictions of the world in which we live.

Thus, the text of the Letter continues: “But you, beloved” – he is speaking to all of us -, “build yourselves up on your most holy faith; pray in the Holy Spirit; keep yourselves in the love of God; wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life. And convince some, who doubt…” (vv. 20-22).

The Letter ends with these most beautiful words: “To him who is able to keep you from falling and to present you without blemish before the presence of his glory with rejoicing, to the only God, our Saviour through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, dominion and authority, before all time and now and for ever. Amen” (vv. 24-25).

It is easy to see that the author of these lines lived to the full his own faith, to which realities as great as moral integrity and joy, trust and lastly praise belong, since it is all motivated solely by the goodness of our one God and the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Therefore, may both Simon the Cananaean and Jude Thaddeus help us to rediscover the beauty of the Christian faith ever anew and to live it without tiring, knowing how to bear a strong and at the same time peaceful witness to it.

amy-welborn


After B16 finished with these talks, a few publishers, including OSV, gathered them into volumes. I wrote a study guide for that OSV volume that is available as a pdf here. I maintain that these talks on both the Apostles and the Latin and Greek Fathers would be great parish adult religious education resources – if you agree, feel free to download and reprint the study guide.

It’s free! The talks are free! You can read the Scripture for free!

How refreshing it would be for a parish to present a catechetical opportunity….at no cost to participants.

What a concept!

Here’s one of the pages on Simon and Jude:

amy_welborn2

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She stood for a very long time in this spot, praying steadily and vocally.

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Thursday Random

A quick set of links before I set out on the day here in Guantajuato. If you want to see video, be sure to head to Instagram.

  • Sign up for the Substack! The first collecting-comments post will be on November 4, but I am going to send out another post tomorrow. And remember – it will always be free. What subscribing will enable you to do is comment.

  • On the way down, I started reading Cormac McCarthy’s The Passenger – just published on Tuesday. I splurged on an e-book. I’m not a huge McCarthy fanperson, but he is a vital, interesting writer, and I suppose this and its companion, coming in a couple of months, are his final books. So far, I am not finding it as impenetrable as I expected from some of the reviews. McCarthy also hails from Knoxville, as I’ve mentioned before – he was a fellow alum of Knoxville Catholic High School and attended my parish, Immaculate Conception, as a child. Guys, he’s much older. Anyway, even The Passenger, although set in New Orleans (so far) is peppered with Knoxville references – about going to Miller’s department store and eating at Regas (which, in the 70’s was the Knoxville restaurant). Brings me up short and is comforting at the same time.

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Well, that was a day. Up and awake around 3:30 am – had a 5:30 am flight. I live 15 minutes from the airport, but you know how it is. I just – woke up. So might as well rise and shine, double check that the oven is off and wait for the Uber.

The Birmingham airport was pretty busy at 5am, the flight was on time, we got to Dallas with enough time for me to train to another terminal and board the flight to…

And here I am. Guantajuato, Mexico. That’s the view from my B & B.

I’m pretty tired tonight. I tried to nap this afternoon, but to no avail. My curiosity about the city overwhelmed my exhaustion so I gave up and went out. A few hours later, I wanted to lie down on a park bench and pass out, but of course that wouldn’t be a good idea and there was also the matter of the cacophony of the Battling Mariachi bands for which I need to get an explanation tomorrow.

(You are wondering why I am here. It’s fairly simple. I’ve seen pictures like the one above for a while and have wanted to come here just because of that. It’s Day of the Dead season, and, as it turns out, there’s a big music festival here as well. Not that I’ll be able to see any of the major performances (I checked today – Wynton Marsalis as well as Gustavo Dudamel conducting some Mahler are both sold out), but maybe I’ll see something.))

So I rose, and wandered, got the lay of the land, really tired myself out, so tomorrow I’ll be ready for museums and tacos and such.

Quickly, then:

From left to right: A mariachi band getting ready to greet someone at the airport. I had to leave before I could see it actually happen. The main building of the University of Guanajuato (founded by Jesuits in the 18th century), then the Basilica of Our Lady of Guanajuato, including a sort of scary looking St. Charbel (the Lebanese saint who is very popular in Mexico).

For reasons I do not yet understand, but hope to grasp tomorrow, Cervantes and Don Quixote are very popular here. In fact, the festival is called the Cervantino Festival. There’s a museum dedicated to Don Quixote here.

It is already very striking to me how strong the Spanish part of Mexican identity is here. My major exposure to Mexico in the past has been in the Yucatan, where Mayan heritage is so strong. But then, this area of Mexico was the heart of colonial Mexico – at some point, I think 2/3 of the world’s silver was mined around here. So it stands to reason.

A clown/magician show.

Entrance to the Mercado Hidalgo.

Very near the market and the spillage of other markets all around it was a church. It was a little after 7, and Mass had started, so I stopped in. There were a good number of people there, and, as is the norm in city churches, people drifted in and out – mostly in. The doors were open the whole time (just as they were during Holy Week in Puebla), and forget all your evangelization committees – that’s a presence. Right there, door open wide, in the midst of the comings and goings of everyday life outside.

Just another October Wednesday night in Guatajuato? I guess? Is it always like this, or is it related to the Day of the Dead, which isn’t until next Tuesday? It was so busy….

Teatro Juarez where I guess I will not be seeing Gustavo Dudamel…

The Callejoneadas are groups of singers in Renaissance garb who gather up crowds and lead them in song through the streets.

(For video go to Instagram)

Well, I reasoned, I’m going to be here for several more nights – I’ll have plenty of time to take this all in. Time to take the funicular up to bed!

And who is the statue of? El Pipila – and you can read his story here.

(The funicular station is at the base of the statue, and my B & B is a very short walk from there.)

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