Friday night was bonus night for the Mexican choir I joined this year. Fridays are usually just a rehearsal but this time we met at the church for Misa de la Adviento, which was also a mass for a girl celebrating her Quinceanero. And afterward we gathered outdoors to sing carols at the grotto where the creche has been set up for the season.
But let me start at the beginning. This was my second time to sing for a misa (mass) at the Iglesia de San Fernando, a beautiful church a block from my teacher Lolita's house. The sanctuary is very traditional in design, with a nave at each side of the central altar, graced with two larger-than-life statues of Mary (one is the patron saint of the pescadores, the other is Mary with arms outstretched), two of Jesus, numerous angels with golden wings and a faded image of the Virgen of Guadalupe. Stained glass windows, domes, towers, all the trimmings. The only jarring note is the cold glow of the fluourescent lighting tubes along the walls and arranged around the statuary. The choir sits just behind the baptismal font.
When I arrived I knew something special was planned: lighting had been set up for video and still cameras and seating was arranged in front of the altar. Just before mass began a young girl in a pink strapless gown pouffed with crinolines arrived with her entourage, including Mama and Papa in matching pink, to celebrate her fifteenth birthday. The poor muchacha had to stand for much of the service in her new high heels (part of the custom, representing women's sacrifices for beauty, is the Dolor de Los Pies or Suffering of the Feet). She tugged at the flimsy stole around her shoulders, attempting to appear modest under the critical eye of her relatives, and fought with her numerous petticoats while trying to appear serene and grown up. But I noticed she had down pat the traditional head tilt the girls are taught at Quinceanero time, which is meant to make them look simultaneously innocent and beguiling.
I'd hoped to get a photo of her in her finery but the choir was still singing when everyone exited. Thinking it was all over, I dug for my car keys, but Lolita said, "No, we're going to do the villancicos at the cave now!" The cave is a grotto made of stones in front of the church, especially decorated to look like a manger, and ringed with lights for Advent.
A group of guitar players and singers was already hooked up to electricity, and after the priests circled the grotto sprinkling holy water and spreading incense smoke, they thrust microphones at the choir so we could all join in. Lolita and I sang our English version of O Come All Ye Faithful as a duet, and after a few more carols we warmed up with cups of hot chamburrado (a thick, sweet, delicious hot drink much like atole). A crowd had gathered around, to hear the music, socialize, sip chamburrado, and marvel at the lights and creche figures.
Next we'll sing for a Christmas-themed wedding and a posada at another church. Before I became interested in Mexican Christmas I had just about given up on the holiday, but now it has a whole new meaning, gracias a díos. Read Mexico Bob's description of Advent and its customs for lots more details.
P.S. Today is the day to light the first candle on the corona del adviento, and I made a corona of seashells and candles. The corona is supposed to be a wreath, but I had none so I used a pottery bowl. The candles are supposed to be white and lavender, but I had pink, blue and green. But as Mexico Bob said, I don't think God will mind. Here's how it will look when all the candles are lighted on the fourth Sunday of Advent.