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Santa María Tenontzintla From across the sea, cities compete with each other with the spires of their cathedrals and the strange colors of stained glasses that are not made in order to reflect the lights of this world. Here, in Tenontzintla, the heights are modest but the angels of the lowest heaven have dark and golden faces and their wings are quetzal plumes.The Precious Mother comes down to the street on festival days. People have seen her in the Huejotzingo fair selling cider, with black plaits joined at the ends and an easy, cordial manner like a farm wife. No one would say that she lives on altars and that she wears a solemn lace crinoline. But unbelievers and reprobates recognize her and furtively kiss the footprints, light as fireflies, that her bare feet are leaving on the earth. Tenontzin (or Tonantzin) is an ancient name for the goddess who has merged, in popular consciousness, with the Virgin Mary of Roman Catholic religion; Tenontzintla is the diminutive, as in Madrecita (see below). The Church of Santa María Tenontzintla is located in Mexico. Quetzal: a brightly-colored tropical bird of Central America, namesake of the Mesoamerican god Quetzalcóatl. The Precious Mother, Madrecita: the diminutive cita implies not necessarily size (Little Mother) but also affection. Huejotzingo: the little town near to this church, whose architecture and artistic work reflect the mixed-race (mestizo) heritage of Mexico rather than of any white European models.
Santa María Tenontzintla Del otro lado del mar las ciudades compiten entre sí con los picos de sus catedrales y los raros colores de unos vidrios que no están hechos para reflejar las luces de este mundo. Aquí, en Tenontzintla, las alturas son modestas pero los ángeles de su cielo más bajo tienen caras oscuras y doradas y sus alas son plumas de quetzal.La Madrecita baja a la calle en los días de fiesta. La han visto en la feria de Huejotzingo vendiendo sidra, con trenzas negras unidas en los cabos y un aire sencillo y cordial de ama de granja. Nadie diría que vive en las altares y que gasta un solemne mariñaque de encaje. Pero los incrédulos y los réprobos la reconocen y besan con disimulo la huella de luciérnaga que van dejando en la tierra sus pies descalzos.
María Rosa Lojo |