The fresh sun inspired a walk through my neighborhood today, the kind of walk that makes me feel in love with everybody and everything. I was in love with the Live Poultry store, the Dinero Mexicano exchange shop with the freaky lighting, the sloppy Arabic on the “Shut down by the Health Department” sign, and the fabulous Chica’s Secret with all its glittery Quineanera dresses. I felt in love with Stevie Wonder and Entre Rios and all the people who sang through my iPod into my ears. I looked at the birds and I was in love with them too.
I passed a stand selling elotes, which reminded me of Guatemala, which reminded me of Mayan people. I cannot stop thinking about Mayans these days; I am in love with them as well. I was thinking about that beautiful church I saw in Antigua with the Mayan Gods as well as Christian saints, and thought about how much I was in love with that.
I got to thinking about El Cristo Negro, and this is when my love for life and the world turned into crying. El Cristo Negro is a 16th-century Spanish crucifix that was displayed at the Iglesia de Santiago in Antigua. It depicted a white Christ, a Christ that looked like the Spaniards. However, soon after the church’s construction, there was a fire, and the soot blackened the crucifix. Thus, Jesus turned black. The indigenous Christians of Guatemala took this as a sign of Jesus’ care for them, as he was now dark like them. They joyfully praised him and took this as confirmation of their faith.
My tears started while thinking about this story. The most compelling thing about Jesus is his humanity, the way that every person can relate to him. How incredible that a people completely oppressed could find hope and beauty in this person praised and touted by the people who oppressed them. How incredible that they could identify with him. And yet, not very incredible at all, when you ponder the true and undeniably human-ness of Jesus.
The song that came on my iPod immediately after concluding my thought journey through my memory about the story of El Cristo Negro was Alison Krauss’ rendition of “I’ll Fly Away.” And I was further struck by the fact that we are able to identify with Jesus while on earth, and then go be with him in heaven! Because God was so nuts about the world that he gave eternal life to those who believe in him! And I was so thankful for the fact that those indigenous people got to fly away to heaven after a life of oppression, to be with their Jesus.
I began to think (how could I not?) about the magical loveliness of flying. Flying plays a rather significant role in my life. I often fly on planes to far-away lands. I just flew to Guatemala, and yesterday I found out that in July I will fly to Chile, and will not fly back to Chicago for either 6 months or a year, depending on how my adventure unfolds. This is the longest I will have ever been in a foreign country and I am anxious and terrified. I feel comfortable in Central America; I feel comfortable with Mexican Spanish; I feel comfortable with 8-hour flights (at the most). I know very little of South America, of Chilean Spanish, and of epic flights lasting longer than 8 hours.
But I was born to fly. I am sure of this.
To Guatemala, to Chile, to heaven!
That said, I have a new email address, for when I graduate and no longer have my college email.
mariauciel[at]gmail.com
(Mari to the sky)
Hello girly. I am curious what church you go to. I think I might like to try it… maybe not on a Sunday (Unless they have a Very Early service) but an Saturday or Sunday evening perhaps? Let me know if you’d want to take me sometime. :)