New religion? Creepy cult?
My history prof sent this article to the Saints and Society class and I thought I'd share it with you guys and ask what you all think about it.
Santa Muerte: The New God in Town TIME.com
Tuesday, Oct. 16, 2007 By STEVEN GRAY/CHICAGO
Though not officially recognized as a saint by the Catholic Church,
Santa Muerte's popularity has spread significantly in the last ten
years, especially in crime-ridden communities.
In a small shop in one of this city's largest Mexican neighborhoods,
Laura Martinez scans rows of candles bearing the images of Saint
David, Saint Raphael, and Saint Jude. But she overlooks those and
grabs two candles featuring Santa Muerte - Saint Death. "She's my
patron saint," says Martinez, 24, who arrived here from a town
outside Mexico City about six years ago. "You worship her," she says
of Santa Muerte. "It's my religion."
Now appearing in New York, Houston and Los Angeles: Santa Muerte. The
personage is Mexico's idolatrous form of the Grim Reaper: a skeleton
- sometimes male, sometimes female - covered in a white, black or red
cape, carrying a scythe, or a globe. For decades, thousands in some
of Mexico's poorest neighborhoods have prayed to Santa Muerte for
life-saving miracles. Or death to enemies. Mexican authorities have
linked Santa Muerte's devotees to prostitution, drugs, kidnappings
and homicides. The country's Catholic church has deemed Santa
Muerte's followers devil-worshiping cultists. Now Santa Muerte has
followed the thousands of Mexicans who've come to the U.S., where it
is presenting a new challenge for American Catholic officials
struggling with an increasingly multicultural population.
Santa Muerte's precise origins are a matter of debate. Some experts
say its roots lie with Aztec spiritual rituals that mixed with
Catholicism during Spanish colonial rule. What is clear, however, is
that Santa Muerte developed a large following only in the last
quarter century among Mexicans who had become disillusioned with the
dominant Church and, in particular, the ability of established
Catholic saints to deliver them from poverty. Residents of
crime-tossed neighborhoods like Mexico City's Tepito began revering
Santa Muerte more than Jesus Christ, experts say. Some of its
devotees eventually split from the Catholic church and began vying
for control of Catholic buildings. That's when Mexico's Catholic
church declared it a cult.
Santa Muerte began appearing in U.S. neighborhoods with large Mexican
populations only in the last decade. Walk down 26th Street in Little
Village, one of Chicago's largest Mexican neighborhoods, and you'll
notice the tiny shops, or botanicas, selling statues, candles and
palm-sized prayer cards bearing Santa Muerte's image. There are
references to Santa Muerte in Spanish-language newspapers. Young
Mexican-American men are marking their bodies with Santa Muerte
tattoos to prove their devotion. Middle-class, suburban-bred
Mexican-Americans are snapping up black T-shirts bearing Santa
Muerte's image to reconnect with what they perceive to be part of
their heritage. Recently a Chicago art gallery opened an exhibit
showcasing images from Tepito - with Santa Muerte figuring
prominently. And Santa Muerte may gain even more credibility with the
release of Saint Death, a new documentary about the phenomenon,
narrated by Mexican actor Gael Garcia Bernal.
"It's become commercialized," observed Isabel Montalbo, manager of a
botanica here. On a recent afternoon, Montalbo stood behind rows of
oils with names like gota de amor (oil of love) and across from
several jars of herbs, like epazote, cuassia chips and anise. Not far
away were several large statues of Santa Muerte, some costing as much
as $300.
Nearly 40% of the Chicago Catholic archdiocese's 2.3 million members
are Latino, most of them Mexican. Catholic officials here have
certainly taken notice of Santa Muerte's growing popularity: the
archdiocese has encouraged priests with large Mexican populations to
address the so-called saint's rise from the pulpit.
Just a few days ago, Father Marco Mercado, of the Good Shepherd
Catholic Church in Little Village, visited a parishioner's home. As
is common in Mexican residences, there was an altar with several
Catholic saints. One statue, however, stood out: Santa Muerte. Father
Mercado recalls telling the parishioner, "This is Santeria - it's not
good! It's not at all connected with the Catholic faith." Many of
Good Shepherd's roughly 3,000 parishioners have ignored Father
Mercado's calls to destroy their Santa Muerte statues, candles and
prayer cards, fearing that doing so will bring sudden death to
themselves or family members. Now, he tells parishioners to bring
Santa Muerte artifacts to the church. "I'll destroy it," he says.
Chicago church officials appear to be among the most aggressive in
addressing the rise of Santa Muerte. Catholic officials in New York,
Denver and Phoenix say they are unaware of Santa Muerte's increasing
popularity in their communities. Father Oscar Cantu of Houston says
he has watched botanicas and Santa Muerte gain popularity in his
largely Mexican-American community, particularly among poor,
uneducated immigrants. Father Cantu says he has made clear to his
members that Santa Muerte is in conflict with the church's teaching.
However, he says there has been little discussion about the topic
among the broader church leadership. "It's probably time they receive
some clarification that this is a distortion of our faith," he says,
adding, "This poses a challenge for the church." (The U.S. Conference
of Catholic Bishops hasn't issued an official position on Santa
Muerte, partly because it is a relatively new phenomenon in this
country.)
Back on Chicago's 26th Street, a n elderly woman is at a cart,
slathering sliced mangoes with chili. Laura Martinez steps out of the
botanica, into the evening's cool air. "I'm Catholic and Santa
Muerte," she says, carrying a plastic bag with two candles and a
prayer card. She says she doesn't go to church, partly because she's
too busy, but also "because of everything you hear with priests,"
referring to the recent abuse cases. At home, she prays at an altar
with a spot only for one saint: Santa Muerte. "She's jealous if there
are any other saints around," she says, adding, "She brings me good
luck. I got my job because of Santa Muerte!" With reporting by
Lourdes Vasquez/Chicago
I can definitely see why the Catholic Church doesn't like this. It's worship of a skeletal figure representing a force generally perceived as bad in the guise of a more normal saint. I can also see why it's become popular among the poorer classes, especially those involved in criminal activities.
What I find most interesting, however, is the idea that if one gives up the worship of Santa Muerte, terrible things will happen to you or your family. It reminds me of cursed good luck charms like the fabled monkey's paw. That the "saint's" own worshippers are afraid of her tends to lend credence to the Catholic side of this argument; namely that this is a cult and not divine in any way. I completely discount the idea that it's descended from Aztec beliefs unless it's in some incredibly round about way involving the Day of the Dead (which, incidentally, overlaps All Saints' and All Souls' days. Regardless of Aztec religion, Santa Muerte almost certainly came out of a fusion of these traditions).
Santa Muerte: The New God in Town TIME.com
Tuesday, Oct. 16, 2007 By STEVEN GRAY/CHICAGO
Though not officially recognized as a saint by the Catholic Church,
Santa Muerte's popularity has spread significantly in the last ten
years, especially in crime-ridden communities.
In a small shop in one of this city's largest Mexican neighborhoods,
Laura Martinez scans rows of candles bearing the images of Saint
David, Saint Raphael, and Saint Jude. But she overlooks those and
grabs two candles featuring Santa Muerte - Saint Death. "She's my
patron saint," says Martinez, 24, who arrived here from a town
outside Mexico City about six years ago. "You worship her," she says
of Santa Muerte. "It's my religion."
Now appearing in New York, Houston and Los Angeles: Santa Muerte. The
personage is Mexico's idolatrous form of the Grim Reaper: a skeleton
- sometimes male, sometimes female - covered in a white, black or red
cape, carrying a scythe, or a globe. For decades, thousands in some
of Mexico's poorest neighborhoods have prayed to Santa Muerte for
life-saving miracles. Or death to enemies. Mexican authorities have
linked Santa Muerte's devotees to prostitution, drugs, kidnappings
and homicides. The country's Catholic church has deemed Santa
Muerte's followers devil-worshiping cultists. Now Santa Muerte has
followed the thousands of Mexicans who've come to the U.S., where it
is presenting a new challenge for American Catholic officials
struggling with an increasingly multicultural population.
Santa Muerte's precise origins are a matter of debate. Some experts
say its roots lie with Aztec spiritual rituals that mixed with
Catholicism during Spanish colonial rule. What is clear, however, is
that Santa Muerte developed a large following only in the last
quarter century among Mexicans who had become disillusioned with the
dominant Church and, in particular, the ability of established
Catholic saints to deliver them from poverty. Residents of
crime-tossed neighborhoods like Mexico City's Tepito began revering
Santa Muerte more than Jesus Christ, experts say. Some of its
devotees eventually split from the Catholic church and began vying
for control of Catholic buildings. That's when Mexico's Catholic
church declared it a cult.
Santa Muerte began appearing in U.S. neighborhoods with large Mexican
populations only in the last decade. Walk down 26th Street in Little
Village, one of Chicago's largest Mexican neighborhoods, and you'll
notice the tiny shops, or botanicas, selling statues, candles and
palm-sized prayer cards bearing Santa Muerte's image. There are
references to Santa Muerte in Spanish-language newspapers. Young
Mexican-American men are marking their bodies with Santa Muerte
tattoos to prove their devotion. Middle-class, suburban-bred
Mexican-Americans are snapping up black T-shirts bearing Santa
Muerte's image to reconnect with what they perceive to be part of
their heritage. Recently a Chicago art gallery opened an exhibit
showcasing images from Tepito - with Santa Muerte figuring
prominently. And Santa Muerte may gain even more credibility with the
release of Saint Death, a new documentary about the phenomenon,
narrated by Mexican actor Gael Garcia Bernal.
"It's become commercialized," observed Isabel Montalbo, manager of a
botanica here. On a recent afternoon, Montalbo stood behind rows of
oils with names like gota de amor (oil of love) and across from
several jars of herbs, like epazote, cuassia chips and anise. Not far
away were several large statues of Santa Muerte, some costing as much
as $300.
Nearly 40% of the Chicago Catholic archdiocese's 2.3 million members
are Latino, most of them Mexican. Catholic officials here have
certainly taken notice of Santa Muerte's growing popularity: the
archdiocese has encouraged priests with large Mexican populations to
address the so-called saint's rise from the pulpit.
Just a few days ago, Father Marco Mercado, of the Good Shepherd
Catholic Church in Little Village, visited a parishioner's home. As
is common in Mexican residences, there was an altar with several
Catholic saints. One statue, however, stood out: Santa Muerte. Father
Mercado recalls telling the parishioner, "This is Santeria - it's not
good! It's not at all connected with the Catholic faith." Many of
Good Shepherd's roughly 3,000 parishioners have ignored Father
Mercado's calls to destroy their Santa Muerte statues, candles and
prayer cards, fearing that doing so will bring sudden death to
themselves or family members. Now, he tells parishioners to bring
Santa Muerte artifacts to the church. "I'll destroy it," he says.
Chicago church officials appear to be among the most aggressive in
addressing the rise of Santa Muerte. Catholic officials in New York,
Denver and Phoenix say they are unaware of Santa Muerte's increasing
popularity in their communities. Father Oscar Cantu of Houston says
he has watched botanicas and Santa Muerte gain popularity in his
largely Mexican-American community, particularly among poor,
uneducated immigrants. Father Cantu says he has made clear to his
members that Santa Muerte is in conflict with the church's teaching.
However, he says there has been little discussion about the topic
among the broader church leadership. "It's probably time they receive
some clarification that this is a distortion of our faith," he says,
adding, "This poses a challenge for the church." (The U.S. Conference
of Catholic Bishops hasn't issued an official position on Santa
Muerte, partly because it is a relatively new phenomenon in this
country.)
Back on Chicago's 26th Street, a n elderly woman is at a cart,
slathering sliced mangoes with chili. Laura Martinez steps out of the
botanica, into the evening's cool air. "I'm Catholic and Santa
Muerte," she says, carrying a plastic bag with two candles and a
prayer card. She says she doesn't go to church, partly because she's
too busy, but also "because of everything you hear with priests,"
referring to the recent abuse cases. At home, she prays at an altar
with a spot only for one saint: Santa Muerte. "She's jealous if there
are any other saints around," she says, adding, "She brings me good
luck. I got my job because of Santa Muerte!" With reporting by
Lourdes Vasquez/Chicago
I can definitely see why the Catholic Church doesn't like this. It's worship of a skeletal figure representing a force generally perceived as bad in the guise of a more normal saint. I can also see why it's become popular among the poorer classes, especially those involved in criminal activities.
What I find most interesting, however, is the idea that if one gives up the worship of Santa Muerte, terrible things will happen to you or your family. It reminds me of cursed good luck charms like the fabled monkey's paw. That the "saint's" own worshippers are afraid of her tends to lend credence to the Catholic side of this argument; namely that this is a cult and not divine in any way. I completely discount the idea that it's descended from Aztec beliefs unless it's in some incredibly round about way involving the Day of the Dead (which, incidentally, overlaps All Saints' and All Souls' days. Regardless of Aztec religion, Santa Muerte almost certainly came out of a fusion of these traditions).