Postcard from Madrid: Gigantes y Cabezudos parade to greet us

We arrived on a holiday, a three-day weekend for Madrilenos as they honor their patron saint, San Isidro Labrador (1070-1130). San Isidro was credited with hundreds of miracles, but the one most coveted by working stiffs? Angels would fill in for him, kindly taking over his plowing while Isidro lost himself in religious meditation and prayer.

Madrid has changed a lot since adopting the patron saint of farmers as its own. Arriving here after staying in small cities surrounded by farmland, we were shocked and a bit overwhelmed by the city’s size, both in the scale of the buildings and the number of people. Major sidewalks and pedestrian-only streets were packed.

But celebrations for San Isidro Labrador brought things back to a more human scale for us. The first thing we encountered was a hokey, hometown, colorful parade of Gigantes (Giants) and Cabezudos (Big-Heads) weaving through the streets. One of the shorter advance enforcers, a big-nosed Kiliki, hurled his foam weapon at Mister photographer; the event would be at home in any small town in Mexico.

San Isidro’s remains still reside here, or most of them, behind nine locks in the church bearing his name. Only the King of Spain has the key, and even he is not allowed access without the approval of the Archbishop of Madrid.

The high level of security might seem extreme, but even royalty can’t be trusted from temptation to take a bit of a saint home with them to provide a few miracles needed around the kingdom. Supposedly, Charles II had one of San Isidro’s teeth pulled to keep underneath his pillow. And what of San Isidro’s wife, Santa Maria de la Cabeza? Her head used to be trotted out and paraded around every time the farmers in the area needed rain.

Which brings us back to the parade of big-heads on May 14, followed by the saint’s official day on May 15 that began with many Madrilenos donning traditional fashions of yore and ended with an explosion of fireworks.

Postcard from Tlacolula de Matamoras, Oaxaca, Mexico: So many saints lost their heads….

Generally, statues of saints lining the walls in churches are robed modestly and depicted holding the iconic symbols associated with their lives, but a Baroque side chapel in the Church of La Asuncion de Nuestra Senora in the bustling city of Tlacolula de Matamoras does not cloak saintly sacrifices. The beautifully restored Dominican church dates from the middle of the 16th century.

The walls and ceilings of the chapel dedicated to El Senor of Tlacolula, a “black Christ” credited with performing miracles, are covered with gilded sculptural reliefs graphically illustrating the violent ends to the lives of numerous saints. Bloody wounds and severed heads testify to the gruesome suffering the martyrs endured for their faith.

Dim lighting and flash restrictions hindered our efforts to share the unusual portrayals, save for soft images of a severely gouged San Judas Thadeo enthroned behind Jesus astride a burro and poor decapitated San Pablo.

Postcard from San Cristobal de las Casas, Chiapas, Mexico: Churches exhibit a spirit of tolerance

Having already posted about the unorthodox fashion sported by statues of saints in San Cristobal de las Casas and some of the religious practices in San Juan Chamula, there are a few remaining photographs of churches to share.

What struck us the most when visiting these churches was the seeming tolerance by the Catholic Church of the syncretic religious practices of the populace. It was commonplace to witness shamans chanting ceremonies for small groups of faithful in front of statues of saints, sometimes leaving empty Coke bottles behind after having burped away the evil spirits.