Thursday, August 04, 2011

washing up memories

I began Wednesday as I have begun each day this week.  At the internet café. 

And it is not just any internet café.

It shares space with a dentist.  I thought there was a day care center upstairs.  It turned out that a number of mothers bring their young children along when emails need answering and YouTube videos need watching.

And, of course, there is the ubiquitous noise maker.  In this case, a television that blares out whatever shows up on the one-eyed witch’s signal.

I am not certain I have ever worked on my blog to the sound of a dentist drill, the smell of overheated porcelain, the entreaties of children, and the shouts of Mel Gibson.  There are other internet cafés.  But this one is so unique, I hate to abandon it.

This afternoon there was an additional twist.  A storm.  A real storm.  Between the lightning, thunder, and pelting rain, it sounded as if the place would come down.  And considering the amount of water that leaked in, that may have been a real possibility.  Maybe the children running around doing their Chicken Little shrieks at the tops of their voices were not so wrong.

But that was my afternoon stop at the internet café.  In the morning, after I posted to my blog, I decided to take a little walk around the town.

I have spent almost all of my time around the two major plazas.  So, I decided to head off of the beaten track a bit.  On this trek, I used church towers as navigating points.  Usually there is something interesting near churches.

The first one turned out to be the church next to the hospital.  It was rather plain on the exterior.  That made my discovery inside that much more startling.

Every church is named for a saint.  And every saint has a feast day.  I am not certain which saint has the honor of these colors.  From the choice of frothy pink and white, I suspect Barbara Cartland was hanging around somewhere.

I then headed off to another neighborhood and found a church that was in dire need of repair.  Kim remarked the other day that he liked the organic feel of Pátzcuaro.  That was certainly true of this little church.  It was quickly returning to the ground from which it came.

But one thing that caught my eye was a statue near the altar.  I have seen similar representations in other churches.  But, for some reason, seeing the trinity reduced to statue form is a bit jarring to me.

And I am not certain why.  It has to be something more than seeing the trinity as a Hummel figure.

Perhaps it is seeing God the Father portrayed in human form that is startling.  But I do not have the same reaction to Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam.  And the two representations are very similar.

I suspect it is theological.  The trinity is a difficult doctrine.  And seeing each member portrayed separately awakens all forms of heresies, such as, adoptionism, that have been wandering around since the second century.

Or it may be as simple as the old statement that Christ portrayed is Christ profaned.

I soon found myself back at the internet café -- where I stayed a bit longer than I had anticipated due to the rain.  When I came out, most of the rain had drained away.

Tomorrow (or today when you read this), I will be having lunch with a fellow blogger.  More on that later.


Mcotton said...

The church looks like it is decorated for a wedding.

Jonna said...

'adoptionism' got me to Wiki, I learned something so it wasn't a complete waste.  However, it's just another example of counting angels on the head of a pin.  I can't read that stuff without a booming "Who Cares?" in my head, perhaps the voice of god?

Nita Laughlin said...

One more note on the marketplaces. As Harry Truman once said, if you can't stand the heat get out of the kitchen. S000000, if anyone doesn't like the markets, DON'T GO !

Rick said...

I would guess that is the voice of intelligence and reason, not god.

Don Cuevas said...

The church next to the hospital is la Iglesia de San Juan de Dios. For me it has a strong feeling of "Old Mexico".

Saludos, Don Cuevas

Don Cuevas said...

It's said that the oldest church in Pátzcuaro is the one by a small bridge on Calle Benigno Serrato, on the way out of town. It's the same street that runs by the side of the Basilica, and that street used to be the main route to Morelia. I've never been inside, but the outside certainly looks old.

Saludos, Don Cuevas

Steve Cotton said...

That is not far from the truth.  Mexicans feel that way about their church.

Steve Cotton said...

I often shake my head at the disputes people have over theology.  Even starting with the Bible as being scripture, many theological disputes are nothing more than what men have made up.  God must shake his head a lot.

Steve Cotton said...

Ah, but from my perspective the voice of reason and intelligence is God, and one of God's greatest gifts to us.

Steve Cotton said...

Interestingly, the town market stalls are stuffed with locals doing their shopping.  The stalls around the church seem to have a specific target -- tourists.  And those stalls are not busy at all.

Steve Cotton said...

It is a very interesting church.  If I had not seen it the day before we had lunch, I would be thanking you for your recommendation.  But this exchange gives me an idea for another post.

Steve Cotton said...

I think that is the Chapel del Humiladero, built on the site where the Spanish required the emperor to bow in humiliation to the Spanish.  I was just searching for its location.  You saved me a lot of time.

Jbrowne said...

Steve have you visted the church and restored ex-convento in Tzintzuntzan?  The monasery is managed by a local group and has an anazing amount of intact stucco frescos painted by the monks since the early days of Tata Vasco's tenure.  By my recollection the place was shuttered for almost 2 centuries before the restoration.


Steve Cotton said...

I did last February. I drove through today on a trek around part of the lake. I intend to devote a full day to Tzintzuntzan before I leave. It was very slow in town today when I drove through.