San Juan Chamula

I'd heard the tales but never seen for myself...until last week. San Juan Chamula is reportedly home to Mexico's only Catholic church without a priest. Why? Because they ran him off years ago! The town is totally autonomous with its own law enforcement and courts. No outside police or military are allowed. This is no small town either. It is estimated that 50,000 people live there. The "church" at San Juan Chamula is one of the most graphic examples of the christo-maya-pagan religious practices in Chiapas. Let me be more specific...

• There has been no priest here since 1968 & there is no mass. The sanctuary has no pews, but people sit randomly throughout - chanting, lighting candles and making sacrifices.
  
• John the Baptist is recognized as their savior, not Jesus Christ.
• Sacrifices of candles, liquor, soft drinks, and live chickens are made in the sanctuary each day.
  
• Thousands of candles are burning at any given time, each one supposedly representing the "cure" for some kind of ailment, personal problem, "evil eye" or curse afflicting the individuals. Shaman medical men advise what color, number and length of candles to buy and light to get relief.
  
• Large dolls representing the saints were encased along the walls - with their hands cut off and a mirror on the chest of each one. The locals say that the saints hands were cut off as punishment for not protecting the previous cathedral from burning. Depending on who you ask, the mirrors are in place either to chase away evil spirits or to help the immobile saints use each other's mirrors to scan the cathedral to prevent a future fire.
  
• Inside and outside, "parishioners" drink alcohol. Some use liquor as part of their "worship," offering liquor sacrifices, blowing sprays into flames, or just getting drunk. There are drunk people passed out in the sanctuary, drunk people dancing outside the sanctuary, and others simply staggering around. The grain alcohol known as "pox" (pronounced "poash") is sold by the church.
  

Our recent visit coincided with the saint day for San Juan de Bautista (John the Baptist), who is revered above Jesus or the Virgin Mary. The streets were filled with the local police force in their traditional garb of long furry tunics and billy clubs, and the area around the church was the source of sensory overload. Homemade fireworks went off with great sound and smoke. Competing bands echoed across the open courtyard. Streamers of pendants overhead fluttered loudly in the high winds, and a dark cloud seemed to hover menacingly over the cathedral. As we approached the opening to the cathedral, a drunken dancer came across and grabbed a female member of our group. Though John aggressively shooed him away, we all recognized that there were dozens more just like him. The sanctuary area was so full of people, candles and large sprays of fresh flowers, it was hard to walk. The floor was strewn with boughs of fresh pine needles. The irony of the history of a great fire was not lost on us as we walked along amongst the thousands of candles just inches away from the straw. The saints watched on.

Some members of our group were visibly distressed by the experience. Others felt intrigued by the bizarre nature of it all. Another felt honored to be able to witness first-hand the religious traditions of the ancient Maya. Regardless, we all knew one thing for sure. This was not your neighbor/friend/colleague's Roman Catholic Church. This was not Christianity as we know it.

So now I've seen it for myself. I didn't see the live chicken sacrifice first hand, but I could tell that it happens there. I experienced what I needed to in order to better understand my brothers and sisters in Christ here who evangelize to catholics. Now I know. I don't need to go back. I hope I never do.