Mexico City
October 28, 2011
I just love living in Mexico City.
Take today. October 28th. It’s the official feast day of Saint Jude. San Judas Tadeo here in Mexico. Mexicans love their saints and the romerías, or religious fiestas, that go with them.
The listing colonial church called San Hipólito, just behind the main tourist corridor in downtown Mexico City, and not far from where I work, is the absolute epicenter of the San Judas cult that started when a miraculous statue of St. Jude was donated to the church some 30 years ago.
I descend on San Hipólito around noon. Already I’m too late. There is no way I’ll ever break through the crowd of thousands who’ve come here to pray to him. It isn’t just today. They’ll come here every 28th of the month, twelve months a year. But today is different. It’s the official feast day and sixteen Masses will be celebrated in the parish from dawn to evening, and worshippers will crawl to the statue of the saint on their knees, praying for help, protection, and survival. The crowds are so large that police have to cordon off several traffic lanes outside the church.
I’ts a typical late October day—warm and sunny—not a cloud in the sky. There’s an endless parade of statues of St. Jude, some as large as a man can carry, some small but fantastically decorated. Others have built huge St. Jude floats, flowers encircling the statue.
I jostle my way through the crowds. There’s almost nothing I can’t buy—crosses, scapulas, rosaries with St. Jude embossed on them, flowers, Halloween pumpkins, tee-shirts with San Judas designs. Indeed, many of the young man and women are wearing them, along with tattoos of the saint on their cheeks or upper arms. I consider having a temporary tattoo for five pesos, but think better of it. Groups push their way through the crowd, but there comes a point where the wall is impenetrable. I just settle in where I am, knowing I’m not going to get any closer.
There are true worshippers here, but to me the scene is more party than piety. The truly pious are here to give thanks for miracles performed and to pray to the saint. At some point in the Mass, the priest blesses the statues. Thousands of people lift their San Judas. It’s quite impressive, but I’ve been spending too much time with the Quakers lately, and this form of religiosity is totally unappealing to me. But still I come and love every one of these extravaganzas that Mexico City does so well.
I grew up knowing that Saint Jude was the patron saint of desperate cases and lost causes. In the USA it seems to be a respectable cult, but here it’s dubious. Historians have noted that the cult to St. Jude, popular with Columbians, coincides with the beginnings of the narco-trade between Columbia and Mexico. In fact, so many criminals pray to St. Jude that the Archdiocese of Mexico issued a statement in November 2008 clarifying that St. Jude Thaddeus is not the “patron saint” of criminals or drug lords.
I suppose it makes sense. There’s too much struggle here. People don’t earn enough money and work extraordinarily long hours on their job. It’s a tough life in a tough city. If San Judas offers help, I say go for it.
I finally leave, hot and sweaty from being jostled around for several hours. I’ve taken a ton of pictures. The photo-ops were just too good to pass up. But all day long I encounter the feast day. Processions walk down different streets all heading towards San Hipólito. I ride the Metro Bus to La Roma and people are carrying their statues home. It’s the same heading back to Coyoacán that evening. The Metro is full of devotees.
Long after night has settled on the city, firecrackers continue to be set off. They’ve been firing away since midnight and won’t end ‘til the day is over.
What a city! The day certainly hasn’t made me more religious, but it did put another notch on the many reasons I love this city.
Boys and girls wear tattoos of Saint Jude on their faces and arms
October 28, 2011
I just love living in Mexico City.
Take today. October 28th. It’s the official feast day of Saint Jude. San Judas Tadeo here in Mexico. Mexicans love their saints and the romerías, or religious fiestas, that go with them.
The listing colonial church called San Hipólito, just behind the main tourist corridor in downtown Mexico City, and not far from where I work, is the absolute epicenter of the San Judas cult that started when a miraculous statue of St. Jude was donated to the church some 30 years ago.
I descend on San Hipólito around noon. Already I’m too late. There is no way I’ll ever break through the crowd of thousands who’ve come here to pray to him. It isn’t just today. They’ll come here every 28th of the month, twelve months a year. But today is different. It’s the official feast day and sixteen Masses will be celebrated in the parish from dawn to evening, and worshippers will crawl to the statue of the saint on their knees, praying for help, protection, and survival. The crowds are so large that police have to cordon off several traffic lanes outside the church.
I’ts a typical late October day—warm and sunny—not a cloud in the sky. There’s an endless parade of statues of St. Jude, some as large as a man can carry, some small but fantastically decorated. Others have built huge St. Jude floats, flowers encircling the statue.
I jostle my way through the crowds. There’s almost nothing I can’t buy—crosses, scapulas, rosaries with St. Jude embossed on them, flowers, Halloween pumpkins, tee-shirts with San Judas designs. Indeed, many of the young man and women are wearing them, along with tattoos of the saint on their cheeks or upper arms. I consider having a temporary tattoo for five pesos, but think better of it. Groups push their way through the crowd, but there comes a point where the wall is impenetrable. I just settle in where I am, knowing I’m not going to get any closer.
There are true worshippers here, but to me the scene is more party than piety. The truly pious are here to give thanks for miracles performed and to pray to the saint. At some point in the Mass, the priest blesses the statues. Thousands of people lift their San Judas. It’s quite impressive, but I’ve been spending too much time with the Quakers lately, and this form of religiosity is totally unappealing to me. But still I come and love every one of these extravaganzas that Mexico City does so well.
I grew up knowing that Saint Jude was the patron saint of desperate cases and lost causes. In the USA it seems to be a respectable cult, but here it’s dubious. Historians have noted that the cult to St. Jude, popular with Columbians, coincides with the beginnings of the narco-trade between Columbia and Mexico. In fact, so many criminals pray to St. Jude that the Archdiocese of Mexico issued a statement in November 2008 clarifying that St. Jude Thaddeus is not the “patron saint” of criminals or drug lords.
I suppose it makes sense. There’s too much struggle here. People don’t earn enough money and work extraordinarily long hours on their job. It’s a tough life in a tough city. If San Judas offers help, I say go for it.
I finally leave, hot and sweaty from being jostled around for several hours. I’ve taken a ton of pictures. The photo-ops were just too good to pass up. But all day long I encounter the feast day. Processions walk down different streets all heading towards San Hipólito. I ride the Metro Bus to La Roma and people are carrying their statues home. It’s the same heading back to Coyoacán that evening. The Metro is full of devotees.
Long after night has settled on the city, firecrackers continue to be set off. They’ve been firing away since midnight and won’t end ‘til the day is over.
What a city! The day certainly hasn’t made me more religious, but it did put another notch on the many reasons I love this city.
 |
| San Hippolito is the absolute epi-center of the St, Jude cult in Mexico. |
 |
| Hundreds of thouseands come on October 28th to show their respect and to ask for favors. |
 |
| Sixteen masses were said from dawn to sundown. At each Mass, the priests blessed the statues. |
How cool can I be?
Devotion show no age, but it does tend to be young males.
Vendors sell everything.
Pilgrims carry statues and pictures.
Time to chill
And other stuff...
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