From the outside, Chile is very Catholic. It was the last country in the Western Hemisphere to legalize divorce—merely ten years ago, in 2005. Abortion in all forms is still illegal and heavily criticized. Beautiful churches look out over almost every plaza, and the majority of Chileans celebrate Easter and Christmas.
Yet, this facade is not always at it seems. Underneath these devout Catholic characteristics lies a culture that has deviated from this once strong Spanish religious influence. While Chile may be culturally and politically Catholic, the majority of its citizens are not practicing, nor do they believe in Catholic doctrines or thought. The starkest example may be the Chilean president herself, Michelle Bachelet, who is openly agnostic.
How can a country that recently legalized divorce and still prohibits abortions have an agnostic president and a diminishing population of practicing Catholics? Can Chile still be considered Catholic? And is this difference between politics and culture simply a contradiction, or is it the beginning of a larger change towards a more secular country?
After two months living in Chile, I still can’t fully answer these questions. Nor will I ever be able to because religious beliefs and culture are constantly shifting and transforming, which is both beautiful and complicated.
The decline of Catholic religious piety follows a similar worldwide trend in which the number of people who identify with a certain faith and attend religious events on a regular basis is decreasing. Globalization and the rapid exchange of ideas and thoughts probably play a large role in this religious shift. However, this global influence does not necessarily signify the loss of religious beliefs. Rather, it can also lead to the integration of outside faith traditions and the revival of a new form of beliefs and worship.
When I attended my host family’s evangelical iglesia (church) for the first time two months ago, I thought I had been transported back to my church in the United States. A contemporary worship band (consisting of musicians my age playing the guitar, bass, piano, and drums) energized the congregation as they made their way to their seats. Men and women—young and old—clapped to the rhythm, while others lifted their hands, as if trying to touch the ceiling. I was both surprised and comforted. I did not expect to enter a worship service so similar to the those hosted at my home church. The congregation immediately enveloped me with warmth and kindness, kissing me on the cheek and asking where I was from, and the pastor introduced me to the church at the beginning of the service. I could sense their love for the church just from the smiles lighting their faces and the way they swayed and danced to the music.
The service became more and more familiar as it went on. Every song we sang had been translated from the traditional English version into Spanish. They were songs I had sang many times in church youth groups and retreats. The pastor gave his sermon walking around the church, using a microphone and PowerPoint slides, much like my youth leaders used to do in Sunday school. Even the smallest aspect, the guest information card located in the pews, was almost identical to those used at my home church. And the name of the church was distinctly American: “Union Church.”
While some may complain that this is another example of a negative American influence, for the members of this church, their worship style gave them life and emotion. It allowed them to praise God in a very vibrant and cheerful manner. These devout, evangelical Chileans found joy and spiritual fulfillment in this contemporary worship—and wanted me to take part in it as well.
After two months of living in this country, I have come to understand that when it comes to the Christian community, Chile is very diverse. Within the Christian landscape are those who are devoutly Catholic, others who are simply culturally so, and a growing presence of Protestant and evangelical churches.
Chile’s religious identity is not easy to pinpoint, nor do I want it to be. Its ambiguity and complexity create both fascination, as demonstrated in the strange contradiction between its abortion law and its president’s agnostic beliefs, as well as beauty, found in the majestic Catholic churches and warmth of my host family’s church.
Carley Tucker graduated from Georgetown’s School of Foreign Service in 2017 with a major in regional comparative studies and a focus on female economic development in South America. She studied abroad in Chile during the fall 2015 semester and blogged for the Junior Year Abroad Network. She also worked as a Berkley Center research assistant during the spring 2015 semester.
