Dia de los Muertos, a tradition both solemn and hilarious

Skulls and white candles are traditional elements of Dia de los Muertos. Each November 2, Mexico celebrates its unique Day of the Dead fiesta. Although the day falls just after Halloween, it has no connection to that rather empty and highly commercialized north-of-the-border event. Unfortunately, the current pandemic has caused the cancellation of most of this year's traditional fiesta activities--particularly those involving large groups. However, an elaborate Dia de los Muertos altar recently appeared on the corner of Calle Galleana and Calle Venustiano Carranza, near my home in Ajijic. 

My encounter with the altar inspired this posting. The fiesta has some solemn elements, but mostly it is a wildly colorful and decidedly hilarious event. I hope this lightens up the grimness of these times for members of my blog audience. The first section of this posting will focus on the altar that my Mexican neighbors erected in the last few days. The remainder of the photos will show some of the activities of the 2019 fiesta. These earlier photos have never before been published.

Altar in my neighborhood

My neighborhood's altar contains most of the traditional elements. The first thing I noticed was the large group of photographs taped to the stone wall on either side of the cross. These are the images of family members who have passed away, either recently or some time ago. The large number of photos indicates that this was truly a neighborhood project, rather than one created solely by an individual family. 

Although there is a cross at the top, a great many features of the altar--as well as the Day of the Dead itself--have their origins in ancient pre-hispanic religious beliefs. For example, the pyramidal, three-step altar itself is a structure with antecedents dating back as far as 1500 BC. 

 

A few of the 20+ photos appearing on the wall and on the altar's steps. The people pictured are of all ages, from elderly to relatively young. I was particularly struck by the woman shown in the lower right. She is older and, like many women of her age, she wears a traditional rebozo (shawl) draped over her head and shoulders. Oddly, she hides her face behind a piece of the rebozo, as if embarrassed to be photographed. 

To her left is a man of middle age, sporting a mustache and wearing a white cowboy hat and a plaid shirt. In his dress and general appearance, he closely resembles hundreds of rural men I have encountered in my travels around Mexico. In the upper left is a photo of a young man, possibly a teenager. It is sad to think that one so young should appear above this altar. All these people were obviously loved by families who want to preserve their memories.

On top of the altar, just below the cross, is a colorful catrina. This is one element of the overall altar that does not have ancient roots. Catrinas were the invention of a 19th century political cartoonist named Guadalupe Posada. He created thousands of drawings and engravings of skeletal figures. He used the figures to lampoon the pretensions of the newly-rich upper classes who prospered under the dictatorship of Porfirio Diaz, while the vast majority of Mexico's population remained desperately poor. 

Catrinas fell out of favor for a while after Posada died. However, they became popular again in the 1930s and remain so today. Over time, catrinas have gradually become associated with the Day of the Dead, but the only real connection between the two are the images of skeletons. The fiesta pre-dates catrinas by centuries, if not millennia. 

This little fellow reminded me of the Disney cartoon character Pluto the Dog. Made of paper mache, he looks to have imbibed more than his share of tequila. Dogs in general can be pretty goofy, but Mexican dogs seem to have that quality in abundance. His presence on the altar may indicate that one of the people pictured had a similar dog. Alternatively, he may represent a much-loved but now deceased dog, who once could be found lounging on the front stoop of his master. Behind the pooch is one of several cardboard guitars, an indication that one of the dearly departed was a musician.

Sugar skull, decorated with blue frosting and red flowers. Sugar skulls are another traditional feature of these altars. The skulls are made from granulated sugar that is pressed into molds. They represent the souls of the dead and some have a name written in frosting on the forehead, although this one does not. 

The sugar skulls originated in the 17th century when Italian missionaries arrived in Mexico. The indigenous people wanted to create decorations for the Day of the Dead, but had very little money. One thing they did have was lots of sugar, since sugar cane was grown and processed all over Mexico. The Italians showed them how to make skull molds and the little skulls soon became widely used on Day of the Dead altars. The skulls are often decorated with feathers, foil or other inedible items and are not necessarily created for human consumption. 

This small vignette was arranged on the middle step of the altar. The photo shows a pretty young woman, probably in her teens or early 20s. The smaller photo slipped into the corner of the frame may be her mother, or possibly an older sister. Several traditional items surround the pictures. The white candle helps guide the visiting spirit to the altar. The tiny skull to the right of the candle represents the soul of a child. The cup on the right may represent the favorite beverage of the person in the photo. It has been placed there to provide refreshment after her long journey home from the spirit world. Behind the candle is a marigold flower, which pre-hispanic people considered to be a symbol of death. 

On one side of the altar, a soap bar and pan of water stand in front of a mirror. Since the altar is about welcoming home visiting spirits, it is assumed that they will want to clean up after such a long journey. Such hospitality is considered a social requirement in Mexico. 

Ajijic's Panteon

A highly decorated gravesite at Ajijic's Panteon. In Ajijic, the Dia de los Muertos activities start at the Panteon (community graveyard). When we moved to Mexico and attended our first Day of the Dead event, we assumed the mood at the cemetery would be solemn and were somewhat concerned about intruding. To our surprise, we found a full-on party, with mariachi music, dancing, food. The participants often invited us to share a cold beer or shots of tequila. Now this was a fiesta I could get behind!

An elderly woman rests quietly beside a grave decorated with the Virgin of Guadalupe. Erupting all around her were laughter, music from multiple bands (all playing different songs) and general chaos. Her solemnity was so out of place that I had to take her photo. Similar to New Orleans, graves in Mexico are often elaborate above-ground structures.

A mother applies face paint to her daughter. In previous centuries, people wore masks to these celebrations. However, the custom today is to use white and black makeup to create a skull face. On this base, flowers or other colorful images are painted. The only limit is the imagination of the person applying the paint. This painstaking process can take considerable time, depending on how elaborate the wearer wants it to be. 

Three young women show off their face paint. As it happened, they were posing as a friend photographed them. I just took advantage of the moment to grab a quick shot of my own and they didn't mind. I have found the Day of the Dead to be one of the easiest places to take "people shots." Not only is the mood festive, but everyone wants to show off their face paint or an unusual costume.

Sawdust street art on Calle Parroquia

Sawdust paintings filled Calle Parroquia, along the south side of Ajijic Plaza. Still another tradition of this fiesta is to create images in the street made from colored sawdust. Calle Parroquia contained eight or ten of these large creations. This one is dedicated to Mictlán, which was the Aztec underworld and the final destination for the dead. 

Some of the sawdust creations were sponsored by local businesses. Edith's Salon was responsible for this Dia de los Muertos participant made up with face paint. For all the work that goes into creating these images, they will all be gone in a few hours.

After dark in Chapala

A tall and fantastically costumed catrina stretches out a bony hand in greeting. Each community along the shore of Lake Chapala sponsors its own celebration. Usually we start at the Ajijic Panteon, follow the parade from there to the Ajijic Plaza, then head a few miles east to Chapala, which holds the biggest event on the lake's North Shore. 

The City of Chapala usually sets aside several blocks of its main street for Day of the Dead activities. These include scores of highly imaginative altars, a milling crowd of hundreds wearing costumes and face paint, and a big candle-lit parade. The festivities usually continue long after Carole and I finally head home.

Two members of the foreign community get into the spirit of the event. Most of the foreigners here are Canadians or Americans, but some are Europeans or Asians. Many attend the wide variety of fiestas held during the year and often become participants themselves. 

A young girl lights candles in front of one of the many altars along the street. The candles are arranged in the shape of a cross in the middle of a marigold-petal pathway ending at the altar. The cross is generally thought of as a Christian symbol. However, to pre-hispanic people it represented the Four Cardinal Directions, each dominated by a different one of of their many gods. The marigold path is intended to lead the spirits to the altar and the candles help light the way.

One of the participants in the Chapala parade paused to pose for me. Her flowered head dress forms a spectacular sunburst. There were many other amazing costumes, head dresses, and painted faces at this event, but I thought this pretty young woman was one of the best.

This completes my posting on the 2019 and 2020 Day of the Dead fiestas. I hope that it has brightened your day during these hard times. If you would like to leave any thoughts or questions, please use the Comments section below or email me directly. If you leave a question in the Comment section, PLEASE include your email address so that I can respond.

Hasta luego, Jim

San Sebastian del Oeste Part 5 of 6: The Museum of Doña Conchita Encarnación

One of several display rooms in Museo Doña Conchita Encarnación. This is San Sebastian del Oeste's only museum, but it is packed with fascinating objects, documents, and photos from the days when the pueblo was a silver mining boomtown. The private museum was created in 1995 by Doña Conchita Encarnación, who ran it until 2009. Since then, it has been managed by her charming daughter, Maria Guadalupe Bermúdez Encarnación, who goes by the nickname "Lupita". Her family has been prominent in San Sebastian since the 18th century. (Photo from the website Sistema de Información Mexico)

Photo of San Sebastian, looking north, as it appeared in 1880. The rectangular Plaza Publica, bordered by trees, can be seen in the upper left quadrant. El Portal Morelos fills its north side. The museum is located to the east side of the plaza. The Encarnación family's history in San Sebastian began in 1770. That year, the first member of the family arrived from Spain to become the manager of the Santa Gertrudis mine. The house containing the museum was constructed in 1774, the same year as the Plaza Publica. It originally served as the office and home of the mine manager.  However, the land on which the house sits was once part of a hacienda that had been founded the previous century.

General Amado Aguirre Santiago was a highly decorated soldier and politician. He was born in San Sebastian in 1863 into the Aguirre family who, along with the Sánchez and Encarnación families, were  the wealthiest and most illustrious people of the town. The three families came to an agreement to intermarry only among themselves in order to avoid diluting their pure Spanish blood.  

This arrangement grew out of the rigid social hierarchy of colonial New Spain which continued into the early 20th century.  The goal was to keep pure-bred Spaniards on top. The result of the three families' agreement has been a complicated and rather astonishing set of relationships. 

Lupita's mother, Conchita Encarnación, was not only the wife of Lupita's father, but his aunt and cousin. Lupita's father was also her nephew, cousin, and uncle! These head-spinning relationships reminded me of the old Dennis Warner song "I am my own grandpa".

Some of the family cutlery, probably belonging to General Aguirre. Before the Mexican Revolution, Aguirre worked as a mining engineer for the first half of his life, but the rest of it was otherwise occupied. During the Revolution of 1910, he served under General Álvaro Obregón, who later became President of Mexico. General Aguirre's military posts included commander of Guadalajara, as well as governor and military commander of Quintana Roo and later of Baja California. 

His civilian positions included constituent deputy, member of the Senate, Under Secretary of Agriculture and Development, Secretary of Communications and Public Works, and Ambassador to Chile, Brazil, and Costa Rica. This includes only some of his amazing resume! San Sebastian del Oeste has honored General Aguirre by naming its main street after him.

Rocking chairs and other furnishings of the old house. The fine china on the table is typical of the sumptuous lifestyle enjoyed by the families of mine owners. Behind the table is a stand holding a small wash basin and a pitcher. In the 19th century, stands like this provided a way to wash up when indoor plumbing was absent.

A dead father is surrounded by his loving family. Photos like this were a 19th century tradition. The custom in San Sebastian was for the strongest men in the community to carry the body to the family porch and place it in a seated position. The eyelids were sometimes painted to give the appearance of life. The family would then gather around for a last photo before the body was put in a coffin and buried. It is probable that some of our modern customs associated with death would seem equally bizarre to a 19th century family.

Elaborately-studded chest from Spain. Long voyages and rough handling required that chests like this be strongly made. Notice the heavy lock, a requirement for security against thieves. Such chests could be used after arrival for storage of clothing and valuable items.

An eerie photo of Lupita's Great-Great-Grandmother Andrea. She arrived from Spain in 1777 as a young girl. The photo was taken when she was an old woman, many years later. It was not until I downloaded the picture from my camera into my computer's photo program that I was able to look closely at it. I was startled to see the two ghostly hands resting on Andrea's shoulders. There was no sign with the photo and I have no idea how this occurred. 

Mining Life 

Various members of the three families were engaged in the mining business. Some who worked directly in the business are shown above. These men would have been engineers and managers of their families' holdings. The attire of these men indicates that they lived in the 19th century. The first photographs in Mexico were taken only six months after the daguerreotype had been invented in 1839. However, photography did not become widespread in Mexico until the period of the French Intervention (1862-1867).

Entrance of one of the silver mines. The structure doesn't look terribly stable or sophisticated to me, but apparently it served its purpose. By 1785, at least 25 mines were operating around San Sebastian. The most important included Santa Gertrudis, Real de Oxtotipan, Los Reyes, Terronera, and La Quiteria. The office for Santa Gertrudis was located in what is now the museum. La Quiteria was operated by Hacienda Jalisco (see Part 2 of this series).

A mine worker drives a hole for explosives. The technology was pretty simple: a pointed iron bar and a sledge hammer. The life of a mine worker was difficult and dangerous, to say the least. He might start work before daylight and not emerge from the mine's mouth until long after sunset. His tools were the opposite of "labor-saving". His pay was better in the 17th century, when labor was scarce, but worsened toward the end of the 18th century, as the population increased. Low pay and poor working conditions in the mines were important factors leading to both  the War of Independence against Spain and the Revolution. 

Dangerous working conditions included mine dust, which could damage men's lungs, and tunnel collapses. The explosives used were sometimes unstable. Those who processed the ore faced a more insidious danger: mercury poisoning. Little was known of its toxicity until the last half of the 19th century. During the colonial period alone, Spain exported 50,000 tons of mercury to New Spain for silver processing. Two to four pounds of mercury were used to leach out one pound of silver from the ore. After 400 years of using the mercury process, the land around some old mining sites is still heavily contaminated.

Old mining pulley. Pulleys were first used to raise water from wells in 1500 BC in Mesopotamia. A device like this can allow a man to lift more weight than he could with simple muscle power. Several pulleys can be set up in an arrangement called a block and tackle which allows a single man to lift several times his own weight. 

However, in the early days of mining, human labor was cheaper and more available than mechanical devices. At the end of their shift, workers simply loaded a hundred pound sack of ore onto their shoulders and walked it out of the mine. This might involve climbing hand-over-hand up several levels on rickety wooden ladders. 

Remains of a furnace and chimney for processing silver. These ruins are similar to the furnace and chimney at Hacienda Jalisco, seen in Part 2 of this series. After the ore was removed from a mine, it was transported to one of several processing centers operated by mining haciendas. There, it was crushed and spread out in what is called the patio process. Mercury amalgamated with silver particles when it was poured over the crushed ore. 

This amalgamation would then be put into the furnaces where the mercury would burn off, leaving the silver to be collected and poured into molds for silver ingots. The mercury-soaked debris was then removed from the patios and dumped. This contaminated the soil and eventually the streams. The amalgamated mercury that burned off was carried away in smoke which was then breathed in by those in the surrounding area.

Wooden chest in which silver ingots were once stored. The silver ingots were transported in wooden chests from the processing centers to a building near the plaza. From there, they would be hauled by mule trains or by two-wheeled ox carts called carretas. The long journey to Spain followed the Camino Real (Royal Road) to Guadalajara, Mexico City, and the Gulf port of Vera Cruz.

Corner bastion protecting a silver storage warehouse. Bandit raids were always a risk in silver mining towns. Once the silver was processed into ingots, it was stored in this adobe building. The old photo above shows one of the cylindrical bastions located at the corners of building like this. There are gun slits at regular intervals just below the domed roof. The slits are situated so that riflemen inside can cover the exterior walls on either side of the bastion, as well as firing at attackers approaching directly.

Press for printing paper script used to pay mine workers. Ironically, for all the rich hoard of silver shipped out of San Sebastian, actual silver coinage was scarce. As a result, the mine workers were often paid with script redeemable for goods in local stores. Not surprisingly, the stores were often owned by the same people who controlled the mines. 

This completes Part 5 of my San Sebastian del Oeste series. I hope you have enjoyed it. If so, please leave any thoughts or questions in the Comments section below or email me directly. 

If you leave a question in the Comments section, PLEASE leave your email address so that I can respond.

Hasta luego, Jim

 

San Sebastian del Oeste Part 4 of 6: Cafetelera La Quinta Mari

Entrance to Cafetelera La Quinta Mari. The cafetelera (country house) has been owned by the same family for five generations. They grow and process artesanal coffee of the highest quality. After we visited Hacienda Jalisco (see Part 3 of this series), we stopped by to see their coffee operation and sample some of their products. As is usual in Mexico, the welcome was warm and we were given free rein to wander about. 

La Quinta Mari can be found on right side of the main road as you enter San Sebastian. If you reach the old stone bridge known as El Puente Recto (the Straight Bridge), you have gone too far. To locate La Quinta Mari on a Google map, click here.

The Owners of La Quinta Mari

The founders are shown here in this old family photo. The Sánchez family has owned and operated La Quinta Mari since the 19th century. The current owners are Rafael, his wife Rosa, and his sister Lola. The father of Rafael and Lola married very young, when he was only 15. The marriage lasted 68 years and produced 21 children. However, Rafael's grandfather set the family record with 28 children, although some of them were by several mistresses.

The cafetelera's rear arcade overlooks a grove of coffee trees. The old building dates back 122 years to 1898, when it was a farm producing food and other products for San Sebastian del Oeste when it was a mining town. The Revolution of 1910 was the beginning of the end of silver mining in the area. The last of the foreign-owned mining companies departed in 1921. San Sebastian's population of 30,000 shrank until only a semi-ghost town of 600 people remained. 

Comfortable chairs and benches line the rear arcade. Faced with San Sebastian's disastrous decline, the Sanchez generation headed by Rafael and Lola's grandfather cast about for some way to keep their farm going. In the 1930s, they discovered that the area has the ideal climate and altitude to grow "altura" coffee, the very best kind. Coffee had arrived in Mexico in 1796, but until the early 20th century, most of it was grown in Vera Cruz, Chiapas, and Oaxaca. The Sánchez family demonstrated that it could be successfully raised in the cool, high mountains of Jalisco's coastal range.

Ox yoke from when the property grew crops that needing plowing. I found this hanging on the wall of the arcade. For some reason, yokes like this are very popular items of decoration at many of the old haciendas I have visited. Although this is unquestionably an antique, I still see farmers plowing their fields with a pair of oxen or horses when I travel Mexico's back country roads.

A cow skull and a gourd container decorate a pillar. The use of gourds as containers for fluids dates back to Paleolithic (Old Stone Age) times. While hiking, I have often found the skeletons of cattle along mountain trails and in famers' fields. In Mexico, large animals like cattle or horses sometimes die in remote spots. Their carcasses are usually left for scavengers, leaving only the skull and some scattered bones. Upon occasion, I have found an interesting cow skull and brought it home as a hiking trophy. Carole's reaction is usually "Don't you dare bring that nasty thing into the house". The most recent of such treasures now resides in a corner of my carport.

A bandolier-strapped soldadera rides into town with her fellow revolutionaries. The photo above is one of several from the Revolution hanging on the cafetelera's walls. Notice that she is riding side-saddle, a position that must have been difficult to maintain during a cavalry charge. Soldaderas were female soldiers who fought in battles all across Mexico between 1910 and the early 1920s. 

They are sometimes called Adelitas, after the famous corrida sung by soldiers around their campfires. The song celebrates a beautiful young soldadera, who was the lover of a sergeant in one of the regiments. Although she is portrayed romantically in the song, soldaderas proved themselves to be as fierce and ruthless as any male soldier. Some commanded all-female units and others even commanded regiments of men.

La Quinta Mari's coffee process

A rustic work shed nestles among the groves of coffee and fruit trees. La Quinta Mari maintains 11 acres of trees to produce its altura coffee. The coffee that carries this label is considered to be of the highest quality. It must come from trees that are grown in regions higher than 950m (3117ft). Given that the altitude of San Sebastian del Oeste is 1480m (4856ft), it easily qualifies. Altura coffee has a strong but pleasant odor and a taste that is better than that of coffee from trees grown at lower altitudes.

Coffee beans come from berries like those seen above. The coffee berries are harvested by hand when they have attained a cherry red color. The entire operation is organic, with no use of chemicals for pesticides or fertilizer. The trees are composted with the recycled waste from the processing. There are two kinds of coffee beans grown here, arabic (80%) and robust (20%). 

Dried coffee beans with their husks await cleaning. Once collected, the berries are spread out in the sun for approximately 22 days. During this time they are regularly raked so that they dry evenly. They are ready for further processing when the moisture level drops to 11%. They are then cleaned manually, separating the beans from the dried husks that covered them. The beans are then fermented for 24 to 48 hours.

Coffee roaster, looked after by the household dog. Roasting is the most delicate part of the process. It is at this stage that the coffee beans obtain the aroma and flavor that produce a fine cup of coffee. The roasting process brings the beans to an internal temperature of about 400F. This releases caffeol, a fragrant oil within the beans. This initiates a process called pyrolysis, the key to the aroma and flavor.

Packaged beans and other coffee-related items are displayed for sale. Our group crowded around this table and relieved it of much of its wares. The bag of coffee I brought home from this trip made our stop at La Quinta Mari especially memorable.

This completes Part 4 of my San Sebastian del Oeste series. I hope you have enjoyed it. If so, please leave any thoughts or questions in the Comments section below or email me directly. If you leave a question in the Comments section, PLEASE leave your email address so that I can respond.

Hasta luego, Jim

San Sebastain del Oeste Part 3 of 6: Templo San Sebastian Martir

The entrance of Templo San Sebastian Martir. This is the parroquia (parish church) of San Sebastian del Oeste. The church stands just behind El Portal Morelos which forms the north side of Plaza Publica. Because the steeple is the tallest structure in town, the church is easy to find. To locate it on a Google map, click here.

When I do a blog series on a colonial pueblo, I nearly always include a posting on the churches. From the earliest colonial times, Catholicism has been central to Mexico's social, economic, and architectural development. The first twelve Franciscan friars arrived in 1524, only two years after the fall of the Aztecs. They were followed by the Dominicans in 1526 and the Augustinians in 1533.

 

View of the Templo from a hill on the west side of town. The church was built by the Augustinian Order in 1608. The construction was supervised by the Augustinian priest Fray Sevando Alonso Poco Sangre, but the actual work was done by indigenous Teco laborers conscripted from the nearby village of Hostotipac.  The church was founded only three years after the area around Hostotipac was re-named Real de San Sebastian to designate it as a mining district.

The work of the Tecos (also known as the Cuyuteco) may have been a donation by a local Spaniard to whom they owed free labor under the encomienda system. Alternatively, the Augustinians may have made an arrangement with royal officials for native labor under the repartimiento system. Whichever method was used, it is almost certain that none of the physical work would have been done by a colonial Spaniard. For a description of the ecomienda and repartimiento forced labor systems, see Part 2 of this series.

The rear of the Templo and the gate to the churchyard. This is one of the oldest sections of a structure that was remodeled numerous times and substantially rebuilt at least once, after an earthquake. While exploring the town, my friend Jim B and I accessed the church through this gate, located just behind the east end of El Portal Morelos. 

Following the military conquest of the area, the Tecos of Hostotipac were forced to give up their native religion and convert to Catholicism. This was known as the Spiritual Conquest. Those who "backslid" and covertly continued to practice their ancient religion were severely punished. The Tecos responded by hiding images of their ancestral gods within the walls of the Templo they were building. This enabled them to silently pray to their old gods while outwardly following the rituals of the Spanish priests. According to one legend, this led to dire consequences.

Apparently one of the priests discovered this "devil worship" and followed the offending Tecos to where they worked. At the mouth of the mine, he took off his sandals and clapped them together, while pronouncing a curse on the workers. The mine's roof immediately collapsed, killing some and permanently trapping the rest. As the story goes, on stormy nights their screams can still be heard. In addition, the spirits of the Teco miners haunt the church each year on Holy Friday.

A statue of the Virgin of Guadalupe stands in the church atrium. The propagation of the legend of the Virgen de Guadalupe was one of the great breakthroughs in Spanish colonial evangelism. This was the first apparition of the Virgin Mary in the New World. The event was especially important to indigenous people because she was dark-skinned and spoke Nahuatl, the language shared by many different native groups, including the Tecos. Further, the person who encountered her was a recently-converted Aztec who participated in several miracles attributed to her. 

Because of these unusual circumstances, and because she was encountered at the ruined temple of the Aztec goddess Tonantzin, the Virgin of Guadalupe became the subject of a rather bitter debate within the early colonial Church. The Augustinian and Dominican friars wanted to accept her as legitimate. On the other hand, the Franciscans denounced her as a fraud and a covert way to worship Tonantzin. In the end, the Augustinians and Dominicans prevailed because voluntary native conversions skyrocketed after word of her miraculous appearance spread rapidly through the native population. Practicality triumphed over purity.

The nave of the Templo. This area of a church is called a nave ("ship" in Spanish) because the arched ceiling resembles the interior of the upturned hull of a ship. At the far end of the nave is the main altar, while the walls on either side contain religious statues and paintings. The person approaching the altar is Jim B. While parts of the exterior of the church still retain the original 17th century Baroque style, the interior displays the Neo-Classical style that became popular in the 18th and 19th centuries. 

In 1810, after the church had been in use for more than 200 years, a local priest named Remigio Sánchez Porres, complained that its condition was "not only indecent, but useless." Eight years later, in 1818, he directed the Templo's first modifications. By then, Baroque had long gone out of style, so the remodeling was done in Neo-Classic. Fifty years later, in 1868, a strong earthquake nearly destroyed the structure, so even more of the old Baroque features were replaced by Neo-Classic.

View toward the rear of the church showing the ceiling and choir loft. While Neo-Classic architecture can sometimes be ornate, Baroque tends toward over-the-top extravagance, with every square inch of available space covered with decorative elements.

In 1871, further deterioration resulted in still another remodel. The erection of the steeple in 1884 added an entirely new feature. This was followed, in 1886, with the  completion of the frontispiece (entrance facade). A final touch was added in 1897, when the ribbed vaults over the nave were constructed. That all these changes could be afforded in the 19th century is a testament to the wealth pouring out of the mines.

The central figure of the main altar is a statue of San Sebastian. Usually, the person to whom a Mexican church is dedicated will occupy the central place on its main altar. Most often, this will be the Virgin Mary or one of the saints. Here, San Sebastian appears both as a statue in a glass case, as well as in the mural above the altar. The Neo-Classic features of the altar include tall corinthian columns, topped by ornate capitals, supporting a triangular pediment. On either side of the altar are pilasters (false columns) which are decorative and not meant to carry any weight. 

If this were a Baroque altar, there would be many more niches filled with statues and paintings and the columns would be in the spiraling Solomonic style. Every square inch of wall space would be filled with floral carvings with the faces of numerous cherubs peeking out. It is probably that just such a highly decorated altar occupied this space before Remigio Sánchez Porres ordered the 1818 remodel. 

The mural above the main altar shows the martyrdom of San Sebastian. Although I am not Catholic and not even religious, I have always been fascinated by the stories associated with the Church's almost innumerable saints. San Sebastian is one of the more unusual saints because he was martyred twice. It seems the first one didn't take. Sebastian lived from 256-288 AD, during the late Roman Empire. This was a period when Christians endured severe repression by the Roman authorities. 

Sebastian was a captain in the Emperor Diocletian's Praetorian Guard when he secretly converted to Christianity. His religious activity was discovered however, and Diocletian ordered him tied to a tree and shot full of arrows. The result of his first martyrdom can be seen in the mural above. However, his executioners left before he was dead and a woman living nearby rescued him and nursed him back to health. Once he had recovered, Sebastian decided to give martyrdom another try. He waited in the street until the Emperor came by in a procession and publicly denounced the repression of Christians. 

Diocletion was, no doubt, surprised at this sudden resurrection of an executed man. At his order, Sebastian was seized, beaten to death, and his body thrown in a sewer. This time the Emperor's effort was successful. In the Middle Ages, people began to believe that San Sebastian could offer protection against plagues. The history of such beliefs dates back to the ancient Greco-Roman tradition that the god Apollo could halt plagues. This belief in this miraculous ability was later transferred by Medieval Europeans to San Sebastian. Spanish Catholics then carried the stories with them to plague-ridden colonial Mexico, where San Sebastian became very popular.

A pulpit stands on one side of the nave. This position is typical in Catholic churches. Protestant churches, in contrast, have the pulpit at the front of the nave. The term "pulpit" comes from the Latin pulpitum, meaning platform or staging. It is a raised platform, reached by a set of stairs, from which sermons or other important liturgical statements are made. 

Often the pulpit will be hexagonal, as is the one above, with each panel highly decorated. Catholic pulpits tend to have small, separate roofs above them, often in the same hexagonal shape. The little roofs are not just decorative, but help amplify the voice of the speaker. Pulpits are believed to have their origins in ancient Jewish synagogues, where they were called bemahs. 

A statue of San José holding Jesus stands in one of the side panels of the nave. Very little is said about José in the Bible, so most of his legend comes from later writings. José, a humble carpenter, married the already-pregnant Mary so save her life. At the time, the punishment for pregnancy outside of marriage was to be stoned to death. José planned to quietly divorce her after she gave birth. However, he changed his mind after an angel tipped him off as to the real nature of the infant she was carrying. 

José is mentioned in the Bible only a few other times and then only in two of the four Gospels. All the rest of the many stories about him were invented centuries later. San José is the Patron of Mexico and some other countries. In 1870, he was declared Patron of the whole Catholic Church. During the 20th century San José became entangled in international politics. This occurred in 1955 when Pope Pius XII declared May 1 as the Feast Day of San José. The Pope's aim was to create a counter-celebration to oppose the traditional May 1 International Workers' Day.

This completes Part 3 of my San Sebastian del Oeste series. I hope you have enjoyed it. If you would like to leave any thoughts or comments, please do so in the Comments section below, or email me directly. If you leave a question in the Comments box, PLEASE leave your email address so that I can respond.

Hasta luego, Jim