I understood something for the first time two days ago. People here in Mexico, when they think of death, think of a personality. Let that sink in. Death is viewed as a living entity. Death, just like the saints, can be represented by an image, and prayed to as an idol.
Death is alive. In Mexico, death is more than a reality, a metaphysical fact of life. Death is actually a person, or at least a personality. She is someone to whom you can pray. She is another goddess.
In the warped way that idolatry, left unchecked, works, something unthinkable becomes thinkable, something that is in every possible way negative, dark and evil, the ultimate enemy, takes on life and somehow becomes sympathetic. Then the concept morphs again, and personality is given to it. The term “doctrines of demons” becomes very, very applicable.
On my way up to Jesús María today, I saw a sign that said, “Parking, 15 pesos.” Huh? Then I realized that one of the municipal graveyards was just around the corner. So many people going to the graveyard today, to celebrate Day of the Dead, that someone provided parking. Here’s a quick picture I took out of the van window.
