In the last letter, I struggled with the concept of religion being omnipresent here in Brazil without ever truly seeming present at any sort of center of religious observation.
Religion shapes the way that Brazilians speak, the songs that they sing, and, at times, even the clothes that they wear, but, unless you keep your eyes open, religion just might pass you by here. This idea would soon change once I realized that my eyes were more tightly closed than I had believed them to be. Though it took some time for me to see, after being here for almost a year I have realized that perhaps I was exaggerating and generalizing just a bit too much. In a country where some people proudly tote bumper stickers that read Deus é brasileiro (God is Brazilian), I suppose that, before, I was expecting something grander, more intense, and thus, highly unrealistic. Brazil, I believe, displays the same trends as any other country in the world.
Let me elaborate.
Normally, when I think of the most pious people that I know, I tend to think of older people; then, if I discount the age factor of the equation, I look to the socioeconomic background. I know that my experience with religion isn't all-encompassing, but I notice that the most religious people that I meet tend to come from more humble backgrounds. Although these inferences may not hold any truth at all on the grand scale of things, in my experiences here in Brazil this has often proved to be the case. Whereas most of the people that proclaim to be Catholic cross themselves upon passing by the church, beneath the stained glass and gold-plated ceilings, the Catholic churches are populated by pleasant-looking old dames decked out in their Sunday's best. On the other side of the spectrum, in the evangelical church, which is yet another popular sect of Christianity in Brazilian society, the congregation is most like the everyday working-class people that I encounter on the streets; many of them taking time out of their very busy days in order to absorb the word of God from the orations of a very fervent preacher. (One must remember that Brazil is only beginning to have a middle class, and that, even then, when compared to other more developed countries, this middle class could still be considered relatively poor.)
Next comes the practitioners of Espiritismo and the Afro-Brazilian religions such as Candomblé and Umbanda. As these religions are socially considered more taboo and perhaps because the religious rituals probably wouldn't fit so well within an urban setting, with much difficulty will you find an actual spiritual center in the richest parts of the city (or Zona Sul, in Rio de Janeiro's case). Instead, one must go to the edges of the city and to the suburbs in order to see the religion in full effect; and even then you must know exactly where to go because, oftentimes, you will not find any sort of sign that demarcates that spot as a holy establishment, unlike with other religious institutions. And finally, there are the religions that are not usually associated with Brazilian culture, such as Judaism and Islam. As, I have seen only one woman wearing a hijab and have hardly noticed anyone wearing a yarmulke, things that may seem commonplace in some areas of the United States, I feel unable to provide an adequate observation on the people that practice such religions.
If there is one religion, however, that I have been able to observe to some great lengths, it has been a sect of Umbanda that is called Catimbó. Although it is similar to Candomblé, a religion that was brought by African slaves and synchronized with Catholicism that is still commonly practiced in Africa today, in many respects, that which distinguishes Catimbó is that it is undeniably Brazilian. It recognizes various Brazilian cultural elements such as the caboclos (spirits from indigenous cultures), boiadeiros (spirits of what can be directly translated as Brazilian cowboys), ciganos (gypsies), and pretos velhos (spirits of former African slaves) among other elements. Granted, it has been the only religion that I have actively sought out aside from visiting the, at times, ostentatiously grandiose Catholic churches, and even then it has been for purely touristic reasons alone. It is not because I perceive it as especially intriguing or, dare I say it, exotic, but because when I am at the terreiro, as the Brazilians like to refer to the center of worship, it just feels, well, right. This is partly due to the fact that there are no apparent signs of wealth, which is fitting because most terreiros are annexed on to or located in the more modest areas of region and within the house of the pai/mãe de santos him/herself (the person that essentially runs the spiritual center in both a logistical and religious sense).
In addition to that, there is no proselytizing, or people telling you what and who you should believe in and/or why you should believe in such things. As it is a religion that involves the worship of African deities, or orixás, and various other spiritual entities, and many other activities that are not something that many Brazilians would necessarily classify as normal behavior, such as serving a medium to incorporate these aforementioned entities, all that is expected of you is merely that you respect the ceremony that is taking place before you. And what do you get out of this? Well, if you're open to visiting the center in the first place, you get to see a group of people that are strong in their faith, with a great deal of religious devotion, a huge respect for ancient rituals, as well as a grand sense of community. And, to top it all off, a round, swelling belly after indulging in the banquet that is almost always served at the end of the ceremony—and if there is any way to unite a group of people, then it is definitely through a home-cooked meal.
When I look back all of that which I have just written, it strikes me as particularly odd that of all the things that occurred during my stay in Brazil, religion was one of the most defining elements of my experience. It is not because I simply had the mind to volunteer to submit letters to the Junior Year Abroad Network, because that decision came only after six months of being here. Moreover, it was only after that first visit to the terreiro, visiting the UNESCO World Heritage Site of Ouro Preto in the state of Minas Gerais which contains dozens of classical, baroque-style churches, and observing various religious festivities in the streets of Rio de Janeiro, that the interest truly came. Living here has shown me that whereas in many of the developed countries, the prevailing tendency is to shy away from religion, religion still occupies a huge part in the lives of people all around the world. Most importantly, being here in Brazil has shown me how big an effect that religion could even have on mine.
Let me elaborate.
Normally, when I think of the most pious people that I know, I tend to think of older people; then, if I discount the age factor of the equation, I look to the socioeconomic background. I know that my experience with religion isn't all-encompassing, but I notice that the most religious people that I meet tend to come from more humble backgrounds. Although these inferences may not hold any truth at all on the grand scale of things, in my experiences here in Brazil this has often proved to be the case. Whereas most of the people that proclaim to be Catholic cross themselves upon passing by the church, beneath the stained glass and gold-plated ceilings, the Catholic churches are populated by pleasant-looking old dames decked out in their Sunday's best. On the other side of the spectrum, in the evangelical church, which is yet another popular sect of Christianity in Brazilian society, the congregation is most like the everyday working-class people that I encounter on the streets; many of them taking time out of their very busy days in order to absorb the word of God from the orations of a very fervent preacher. (One must remember that Brazil is only beginning to have a middle class, and that, even then, when compared to other more developed countries, this middle class could still be considered relatively poor.)
Next comes the practitioners of Espiritismo and the Afro-Brazilian religions such as Candomblé and Umbanda. As these religions are socially considered more taboo and perhaps because the religious rituals probably wouldn't fit so well within an urban setting, with much difficulty will you find an actual spiritual center in the richest parts of the city (or Zona Sul, in Rio de Janeiro's case). Instead, one must go to the edges of the city and to the suburbs in order to see the religion in full effect; and even then you must know exactly where to go because, oftentimes, you will not find any sort of sign that demarcates that spot as a holy establishment, unlike with other religious institutions. And finally, there are the religions that are not usually associated with Brazilian culture, such as Judaism and Islam. As, I have seen only one woman wearing a hijab and have hardly noticed anyone wearing a yarmulke, things that may seem commonplace in some areas of the United States, I feel unable to provide an adequate observation on the people that practice such religions.
If there is one religion, however, that I have been able to observe to some great lengths, it has been a sect of Umbanda that is called Catimbó. Although it is similar to Candomblé, a religion that was brought by African slaves and synchronized with Catholicism that is still commonly practiced in Africa today, in many respects, that which distinguishes Catimbó is that it is undeniably Brazilian. It recognizes various Brazilian cultural elements such as the caboclos (spirits from indigenous cultures), boiadeiros (spirits of what can be directly translated as Brazilian cowboys), ciganos (gypsies), and pretos velhos (spirits of former African slaves) among other elements. Granted, it has been the only religion that I have actively sought out aside from visiting the, at times, ostentatiously grandiose Catholic churches, and even then it has been for purely touristic reasons alone. It is not because I perceive it as especially intriguing or, dare I say it, exotic, but because when I am at the terreiro, as the Brazilians like to refer to the center of worship, it just feels, well, right. This is partly due to the fact that there are no apparent signs of wealth, which is fitting because most terreiros are annexed on to or located in the more modest areas of region and within the house of the pai/mãe de santos him/herself (the person that essentially runs the spiritual center in both a logistical and religious sense).
In addition to that, there is no proselytizing, or people telling you what and who you should believe in and/or why you should believe in such things. As it is a religion that involves the worship of African deities, or orixás, and various other spiritual entities, and many other activities that are not something that many Brazilians would necessarily classify as normal behavior, such as serving a medium to incorporate these aforementioned entities, all that is expected of you is merely that you respect the ceremony that is taking place before you. And what do you get out of this? Well, if you're open to visiting the center in the first place, you get to see a group of people that are strong in their faith, with a great deal of religious devotion, a huge respect for ancient rituals, as well as a grand sense of community. And, to top it all off, a round, swelling belly after indulging in the banquet that is almost always served at the end of the ceremony—and if there is any way to unite a group of people, then it is definitely through a home-cooked meal.
When I look back all of that which I have just written, it strikes me as particularly odd that of all the things that occurred during my stay in Brazil, religion was one of the most defining elements of my experience. It is not because I simply had the mind to volunteer to submit letters to the Junior Year Abroad Network, because that decision came only after six months of being here. Moreover, it was only after that first visit to the terreiro, visiting the UNESCO World Heritage Site of Ouro Preto in the state of Minas Gerais which contains dozens of classical, baroque-style churches, and observing various religious festivities in the streets of Rio de Janeiro, that the interest truly came. Living here has shown me that whereas in many of the developed countries, the prevailing tendency is to shy away from religion, religion still occupies a huge part in the lives of people all around the world. Most importantly, being here in Brazil has shown me how big an effect that religion could even have on mine.
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