Could it really be possible that two more months in São Paulo have not dramatically altered my original perspective on religion in Brazil? While I hesitate to jump to such a conclusion, I will venture to say this: one of the themes of my February letter still holds true. In spite of the diversity of experiences and conversations to which I have been exposed in the past few weeks, I still feel that certain contemporary translations of more “traditional” religious norms create a sense of contradiction. It is this friction between old and new that I wish to recap through yesterday’s visit to a religious festival at the holy site of Nossa Senhora Aparecida.
One of the perks of the study abroad program in which I am enrolled is the number of cultural activities our coordinators organize for us.The fifteenth of April marked our trip to a religious site we had been planning to visit since the beginning of the semester. A day seemingly appropriate for witnessing the town in full force—a Sunday, a day before the festival of São Benedito and the finale of a week-long series of celebration, as well as a little less than a month before the Pope's arrival—proved to be an indication of just how important the location is in the context of Brazilian Catholicism, as well as popular culture.
Before beginning with the analytical part of this commentary, I want to take a brief moment to summarize the history behind the hype we experienced. Why is Nossa Senhora Aparecida worth a two and a half hour bus ride from São Paulo? Nossa Senhora refers to the Virgin Mary; as one might guess from the name, she is thought to have appeared in the waters of the river Paraíba in 1717. In what form did she come to those who discovered her? Pertinently enough to Brazil's racial diversity, she emerged as a figurine that resembled European depictions of the mother of Jesus—except with black skin.
Today, the statue (visible in the city's basilica) represents for many the complexity of race relations in the country as a whole. Does the acceptance of the color of the saint suggest a certain exaltation of Afro-Brazilian culture? Does it signify the rejection of a cultural homogenization towards the European paradigm and allow Brazil to take on its own religious and social identity? These are the more conventional inquiries the city's identity proposes. However, I would like to challenge its existence from another angle to question what it signifies for another contemporary phenomenon.
I do not wish to negate the historic holiness of the town we visited; however, in light of the trajectory in which the site has developed, I wonder what elements overshadow those one might consider at the heart of the matter. Yes, a peek at the artifact itself might send a chill down your spine, and the basilica built in its honor is breathtaking in its own right; yet, on a pilgrimage to visit a location that is supposed to be religiously moving, is it really necessary to have a corresponding McDonalds? Sure, spiritual satisfaction does not satiate physical hunger; yet, I still find the practically adjoining food court, also home to Choperia Santuário dos Apostólos and Sagrada Família Churrasco (roughly translated to Brewery Sanctuary of the Apostles and Holy Family Barbeque) hard to digest. And this is only a small piece of the pie. In order to paint a vivid picture of what I saw on Sunday, I must also mention the shopping plaza, where the pious might purchase anything from rosary beads to a biblical bottle opener. I should also call to mind what looked like a mini carnival of sorts: I was almost moved to take a spin on the Ferris wheel or snack on some algodão doce (cotton candy) before remembering the sanctity of my surroundings.
I don't need to mention that Skol, a Brazilian beer, is the official sponsor of the festival for you to get my point; what truly perplexed and perturbed me was the extent to which history and holiness combined with commercialism. Is selling the Catholic faith a sin? As an overwhelmed college student rather than some omniscient power, I couldn't say for sure. Nonetheless, I do remain skeptical after my day in the city known by Christians as a location in which something miraculous is believed to have happened. Something just feels wrong about using religion to develop a corresponding material culture that capitalizes on a small statue so enormously significant in my host country.
Before beginning with the analytical part of this commentary, I want to take a brief moment to summarize the history behind the hype we experienced. Why is Nossa Senhora Aparecida worth a two and a half hour bus ride from São Paulo? Nossa Senhora refers to the Virgin Mary; as one might guess from the name, she is thought to have appeared in the waters of the river Paraíba in 1717. In what form did she come to those who discovered her? Pertinently enough to Brazil's racial diversity, she emerged as a figurine that resembled European depictions of the mother of Jesus—except with black skin.
Today, the statue (visible in the city's basilica) represents for many the complexity of race relations in the country as a whole. Does the acceptance of the color of the saint suggest a certain exaltation of Afro-Brazilian culture? Does it signify the rejection of a cultural homogenization towards the European paradigm and allow Brazil to take on its own religious and social identity? These are the more conventional inquiries the city's identity proposes. However, I would like to challenge its existence from another angle to question what it signifies for another contemporary phenomenon.
I do not wish to negate the historic holiness of the town we visited; however, in light of the trajectory in which the site has developed, I wonder what elements overshadow those one might consider at the heart of the matter. Yes, a peek at the artifact itself might send a chill down your spine, and the basilica built in its honor is breathtaking in its own right; yet, on a pilgrimage to visit a location that is supposed to be religiously moving, is it really necessary to have a corresponding McDonalds? Sure, spiritual satisfaction does not satiate physical hunger; yet, I still find the practically adjoining food court, also home to Choperia Santuário dos Apostólos and Sagrada Família Churrasco (roughly translated to Brewery Sanctuary of the Apostles and Holy Family Barbeque) hard to digest. And this is only a small piece of the pie. In order to paint a vivid picture of what I saw on Sunday, I must also mention the shopping plaza, where the pious might purchase anything from rosary beads to a biblical bottle opener. I should also call to mind what looked like a mini carnival of sorts: I was almost moved to take a spin on the Ferris wheel or snack on some algodão doce (cotton candy) before remembering the sanctity of my surroundings.
I don't need to mention that Skol, a Brazilian beer, is the official sponsor of the festival for you to get my point; what truly perplexed and perturbed me was the extent to which history and holiness combined with commercialism. Is selling the Catholic faith a sin? As an overwhelmed college student rather than some omniscient power, I couldn't say for sure. Nonetheless, I do remain skeptical after my day in the city known by Christians as a location in which something miraculous is believed to have happened. Something just feels wrong about using religion to develop a corresponding material culture that capitalizes on a small statue so enormously significant in my host country.
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