I love these images from around the world of people paying homage to the netherworld. Some really extraordinary pictures here that are sure to make you feel something.

From October 31st through November 2nd, a number of festivals, holidays and solemnities take place, all loosely related and revolving around remembrance of the dead.

Halloween, Samhain, All Saints’ Day, All Souls’ Day, the Day of the Dead and other festivals trace their origins back to Celtic, Aztec, Roman and Christian traditions. Halloween is largely a secular observation these days, All Souls and All Saints remain mainly Catholic observations, and the Day of the Dead is still largely a Latin American tradition, its roots in Mexico’s Aztec heritage. Collected here are photographs over the past week from the varied observations of the Days of the Dead around the world.

A skull covered in marigolds rests in front of a wall of graves during preparations for a massive altar in the San Fernando Cemetery in Mexico City, Tuesday, Oct. 27, 2009. Workers added thousands of marigolds, known in Mexico as “cempasuchil,” to giant skull images Tuesday as they prepare to observe the of Day of the Dead.

Women in fancy dress attend a charity Halloween parade in Hong Kong on October 31, 2009.

Four-year-old Dakota Magnuson, of Boise, Idaho, clutches her pumpkin while walking around the Wissel family pumpkin patch, Sunday, Oct. 25, 2009, outside Nampa, Idaho.

Performers greet local school children as they arrive for a Halloween reception by U.S. President Barack Obama and his family at the White House in Washington, October 31, 2009.

US President Barack Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama greet trick or treaters at the North Portico of the White House as they celebrate Halloween in Washington, DC, on October 31, 2009.

The First couple welcomed more than 2,000 children from Washington, Maryland and Virginia schools and their families to celebrate Halloween. (Awesome!)

Queens Ana Maria Sosof Pacach, 19, right, and Glenda Araceli Kua Ajsac, 15, pose for a picture prior to the ceremony in which the new Todos Santos’ Queen will be elected in Todos Santos, northwestern Guatemala, Friday, Oct. 30, 2009, part of the local observation of the feast of All Saints, for which the town is named.

Giant kites made by residents of Sumpango, in the municipality of Sacatepequez, some 48 km west of Guatemala City, Guatemala, for celebrating All Saints day on November 1, 2009.

A woman visits the grave of her son in Mazatlan Villa de Flores cemetery, during the Day of the Dead in Oaxaca, Mexico on November 1, 2009.

A Filipino family uses a makeshift raft to paddle their way through a flooded cemetery in suburban Angono district east of Manila on November 1, 2009. Millions of Filipinos across the country trooped to cemeteries to honour their dead on All Saint’s Day, a day after typhoon Mirinae slammed into the country and killing at least 14.

Mirinae’s rains and strong winds also compounded the emergency situation for tens of thousands already left homeless by two previous storms that had killed over 1,100 the past five weeks.

A view of Nueva Esperanza cemetery during “Day of the Dead” celebrations on the outskirts of Lima, Peru on November 1, 2009. Every year thousands of people visit cemeteries in Peru to honour their dead.

Carlos Estrada of Santa Rosa, entertains motorists under the Highway 12 overcrossing at Olive Street as he brings up the rear of an immigrant march that started on Sebastopol Road and ended at Santa Rosa’s city hall, Saturday Oct. 31, 2009 in Santa Rosa, Calif.

Candles light up graves in the San Gregorio cemetery during Day of the Dead celebrations in Mexico City, Mexico early Sunday, Nov. 1, 2009. According to tradition, candles are lit to guide wandering souls back to their families.

I love that last photo. The cemetery looks so beautiful with lights, and not in a tacky pre-planned sort of way.

Remember the Dead. Fight for the Living.

I’d arranged to be in Mexico City for Day of the Dead, in fact, I’d extended my trip especially so that I could go and see it. I’d read that Mixquic, a small village in the vast, sprawling suburbs of Mexico City, was famous for the beauty of it’s celebrations and had earmarked that as the place to be on 2nd November. Day of the Dead (in spanish ‘El Dia de los Muertos’) is held over two days; All Saints Day on 1st November and All Souls Day on 2nd. Mexicans mark the passing of children on 1st and that of adults, the day after.

We arrived to Mixquic around 5pm after a metro, train and two-bus marathon. The village itself felt pretty small, though it was hard to hard to tell, since market stalls choked the streets, selling all manner of things from ceramic skulls and woolly jumpers, to a wide variety of food. This won’t be the last time I mention food in Mexico but just to say; Mexicans are excellent at supplying delicious, fresh food wherever you might possibly need it. This was no exception and the smells filling the streets of Mixquic certainly had the stomach juices flowing.

But the light was fading so the priority was to make it to the cemetery before sunset. Arriving at the church gates, I was surprised to see it was quite modest in size; it was not much bigger than an average village church and churchyard in the UK.

That was where the similarities ended. As soon as I passed through the gates, all I could see were flowers; thousands upon thousands of blooms filled the cemetery. Every single grave had been decorated with flowers; in pots, in grand stone urns, in elaborate arrangements and bouquets. And then there were the petals of rich oranges, bright pinks, deep reds, lemon yellows, painstakingly arranged into wonderfully elaborate designs; the Virgin of Guadalupe, the Sacred Heart, even calaveras; the skulls synonymous with the festival.

Decorated grave at Mixquic cemetery

As darkness fell, the sky was streaked in deep, rich blues; creating the most wonderful backdrop for the scene that had unfolded. A sea of candles flickered in the breeze and the smell and haze of incense hung in the air. There was quiet chatter and music from a market stall in the streets outside and all added together, it made for an incredibly special atmosphere. It was moving, it was inspiring and more than anything, it was dignified.

Darkness falls at Mixquic

Much like Day of the Dead, the Haitian Vodou holiday Fet Gede is celebrated every year on All Soul’s Day. It’s a day to honor the Ancestors and the group of spirits known as the Gede.

At the head of the Gede family is The Baron in his many aspects (Baron La Croix, Baron Samedi, Baron Cimitiere, and Baron Kriminel to name a few) and Maman Brigitte, the mother of the Gede. Together they reclaim the souls of the dead and transform some into Gede lwa, thus the Gede are innumerable. Papa Gede Nibo is the oldest and foremost Gede – said to be the oldest ancestor of the human race.

The Gede are much loved and they are the life of the party when they appear. They’re known for their bawdy and irreverent sense of humor, for dancing the banda – a dance which parodies intercourse, but also they are known for their great ability to heal the sick, give advice and prophesy the future. They have a special fondness for and are protective of children. In all, they embody the mysteries of death, fertility and birth. (source: www.dadamancer.com)

Note: What follows is my personal account of the events of that day. I did not take written notes at the Fet (a bit difficult when one is dancing). So, any inaccuracies described about the ceremony are likely errors of my memory and not of the actual ceremony.

The Fet Gede celebration that I attended last weekend was held on Sunday, Nov. 1 (All Saint’s Day) rather than Nov. 2 (All Soul’s Day). I am not sure if it was held on Nov. 1 due to people’s work schedules or another reason, but it did not seem to make a difference. The spirits were in attendance.

The day started out with an unexpected surprise. I was chatting online with a good friend of mine (whom I’ll call “L”) when she said she had a surprise ready for me and wanted to bring it over that day. She was pretty adamant that she bring it that day, which piqued my interest. So, about an hour or so later, she presented me with this lovely spirit box:

Note that the veve for Papa Legba is handpainted by L on the top in red, one of his colors. There were three pennies for him inside. Veves are complex and I was touched both by the thoughtfulness of the gift and the time put into it. L is a talented individual in her own right, and works regularly as a henna artist. I presented the box to Legba the following day, and it is now displayed prominently in his shrine area.

Of the four friends I invited to accompany me to the Fet Gede, only two (Greg and Robert, not their real names) were able to make it. Both are new friends that I haven’t known long, but both  have very good energies about them. I met them through our mutual friend Gayle, the owner of the wonderful Gargoyles Statuary. Greg called me earlier in the day, suggesting we meet aournd 6pm somewhere before the ceremony. This turned out to be an excellent idea, as we were able to meet at a sushi bar (the same place where I met Mambo C) for drinks and a light meal. The cocktail I ordered relaxed me a little, which was good because I had been antsy with excitement all morning. After our meal, Greg and I walked over to the dance studio where the ceremony would take place, and met Robert there.

The three of us are very different in appearance; we could be the three leads for a television series that cast its characters with political correctness in mind, LOL. Greg is white with short reddish brown hair and dresses tastefully Goth. He has been a solitary practitioner of Vodou and Hoodoo for a number of years (not sure exactly how long). Robert is black with dreadlocks and dressed casually for the occasion. He is Pagan and somewhat new to Vodou. I am Asian/Inuit with medium length wavy hair and dressed semi-casually, formerly Wiccan and have only been studying Vodou seriously for about a year.

I have to admit that I did my precursory “color head count” of the crowd. I’d love to be color-blind, but like many people who have lived in areas where there are not many others who look like them, the head count becomes an ingrained habit. Plus I have been curious about what a Vodou crowd in the Pacific Northwest would look like. So, for the record, here it is: Total of about 30-40 people. Of those people, 3 of African descent (Robert, one of the guest dancers, and a middle-aged woman), an Asian woman (whom I discovered later is a member of the same dance troupe that performed at the Fet, a group that I would like to see again, Danse Perdue) and myself. Some of the people I’ve mentioned this to are surprised that there were not more people of African descent present, but somehow I wasn’t surprised, it being the Pacific Northwest.

The festivities took a while to get underway, but this gave me time to catch up with Greg and Robert, check out the altar, and say hello to Mambo C. The ceremony opened with a greeting from Mambo C, and then recitations of both the Lord’s Prayer and the Hail Mary litany. (It may surprise some readers, but Haitian Vodou is heavily syncretized with Catholicism). Following the prayers were songs and dances for the numerous lwas, beginning with the Rada lwa. This includes, among others, Papa Legba and Damballah. Here I was grateful for all the reading I’ve done. Even though the songs were in Haitian Creole, my ears were able to pick out certain terms and names throughout the ceremony.

It took a while for Greg, Robert and I to get into the dancing, although the drumming (provided by the amazing Bill Matthews and Friends) was highly infectious and could not be resisted for long. Greg and I were both moving to the rhythms, although not quite dancing during the early numbers. Robert was appreciative of the music but not moving too much early on. At some point during that first hour of music, one of the dancers, a lithe,  lovely raven-haired vision in white lace, extended a graceful hand to me and drew me into the dance. From then on, for a total of around 3 hours, it was nearly non-stop dancing for me. Greg had started really dancing around this time too and never stopped.

After I’d been dancing for a while (maybe 20 minuntes? I lost my sense of time during the dance), I noticed Robert was gone. Initially I thought he’d gone to the restroom, but soon I saw that he was walking arm in arm with the houngan in a circular path around the dance floor. Afterwards the houngan returned Robert to where he’d originally been standing, and put his forehead against Robert’s. I could see the houngan’s lips moving, but could not hear what he was saying. (The houngan made this circular walk with several participants throughout the night, including the Asian woman, the African woman, and the dancer who reached out to me. When I later asked Robert what the houngan said to him, Robert said, “Nothing.” Robert thought that perhaps he had received a blessing. My guess is that the houngan was possessed at the time, possibly by Damballah, who does not speak. I had heard his name mentioned during one of the songs. Sometime later, the houngan did indeed display the signs of a Damballah possession. He fell to the floor and was immediately covered with a white sheet by several people while the Mambo brought the houngan back to himself.) After the blessing, Robert danced freely for the rest of the evening.

There were two other possessions during the evening (possibly more, but I was only sure of these two). During one of the dances, I saw the African woman seated in a chair near the altar, seemingly frozen in an odd pose with one of her arms arched above her head, the other out to the side, and her torso leaning over to her left. Shortly after that she was dancing in a dazed way, and had to be supported by one of the Mambo’s friends.

The other possession occurred while we were honoring the Petwo lwa, specifically during the song for Bossou, the bull lwa. I knew from speaking with the Mambo that this was her met tet (master of her head), so I kept an eye on her while dancing. And sure enough, he came calling. The Mambo’s face assumed a fierce expression as she snarled. Either she pulled off her headcovering or it fell to the floor, but she made no effort to retrieve it. She began charging into people and continued doing so until the houngan got hold of her and asked the lwa to depart.

The last part of the ceremony was to honor the Ghede lwas and the ancestors. This section was opened by one of the dancers who was married to Baron Samedi. She presented him with a bottle of liquor, which she opened, took into her mouth, and then sprayed over the alter three times. What followed then was another hour or so of crazy lascivious dancing (fully clothed). Near the end of the Ghede section, all of us took turns approaching the altar and leaving offerings for our ancestors. We were encouraged to make requests from them at that time. I left a purple candle for my beloved Puck, requesting his further assistance in my Vodou studies. I know he would assist me regardless of the offering or the request, but it is always nice to ask and show appreciation. And I do so appreciate him–he played and continues to play a large role in my Vodou exploration.

The following Friday, at work, I was grabbing a tea bag out of a box when a little figure tumbled into view. This is one of those tea boxes that sometimes includes little porcelain figures. This particular tea box was given to me by a coworker maybe a year ago and I never noticed that a figure was enclosed. I picked it up. It was a little brown cat. Upon closer examination of the tea box, I saw that there were a total of ten possible figures that could be enclosed. Of those ten, two were cats–the other being a figure of two kittens. So that is a 20 percent chance of getting a cat, and a 10 percent change of getting the solitary cat. I don’t know what the odds are of my co-worker not finding the figure herself or me not finding it earlier.  Make of it what you will, but I took that as a very good sign. Also, the mirror I ordered from Gargoyles came in on Tuesday, and I plan to present it to La Sirene this weekend, along with a pipe that I have for Legba. I will give the little cat to Puck. I also will be setting up a Ghede shrine soon, simply because I am fond of them.

In closing, I was experiencing weird pain at the Fet Gede, although not severe enough to stop my feet from dancing. I will explain this further in my next post.

Celebrate good times with your deceased loved ones…come on!

El Dia de los Muertos (The Day of the Dead) is a holiday celebrating those who have passed away.  Celebrated in Mexico, friends and family gather to remember their loved ones who are no longer with them.  It occurs on November 1^st (in connection with All Saints’ Day of the Catholic holiday) and November 2^nd (All Souls’ Day).

Although so close in date to our personal favorite howl-iday, Halloween, Day of the Dead is not quite as terror-fying and has no connection at all.  While partying with ghosts is involved in both of these events, Day of the Dead honors those who have passed before us in a positive light of remembrance.  And that’s just how Sunset Hill likes to do it.  There are no costume contests or walking door-to-door for candy involved.  So put that witch hat away for next October 31^st.  Save the Reese’s for us…

Families plan all year for this big hoop-la. Loved ones visit the graves with gifts to honor those that have passed.  Graves are cleaned and decorated so the deceased are still fashionable and caught dead in something pretty.

Private altars are built to communicate with the dead, containing keepsakes and favorite foods/drinks of the one that has passed.   They then “fiesta” to honor their “familia.”

The rituals and celebrations date back for almost 3000 years.  Long time, I know.  Death was not seen as an end to life, but instead, a continuation.  That circle of life just keeps spinning.  To them, life was only a dream and it wasn’t until death that one became fully awake.

At Sunset Hills, everyday is a celebration of those who have passed before us.  We encourage family and friends to visit and honor their loved ones.  Bring your loved one the latest issue of Us Weekly, a bag of Doritos, or an ice cold Pepsi.  Bring some for us, too (we prefer Cooler Ranch flavor…FYI). Oh, and don’t forget our Reese’s!

Krakow’s All Souls Jazz Festival is the oldest jazz festival in Europe, founded in 1954 as part of an underground jam session while jazz, being music of freedom was forbidden to perform publicly in Poland. For musicians, representing intellectual’s class, playing jazz was an escape from grey and sad then Poland under Communism regime. All of them knew each other but the only day they could get off work was All Souls Day – that’s how it started. The festival attracted both Polish and foreign jazzmen as well as jazz fans every year in early November for over half century. The music has been changing in keeping with current trends, also venues and performers, but some features remain constant.

This year’s festival takes place from 30 October to 9 November

KRAKOW PROGRAM:

October 30st / 2009
9.00 p.m.
MILE STONE JAZZ CLUB (Hotel Qubus), Nadwiślańska St. 6
phone no. (48) 12 374 51 00

Little Egoists
Marek Stryszowski – saxs, voc
Seb Bernatowicz – keybs
Cezary Chmiel – keybs
Krzysztof Bodzoń – bass

Tomasz Grochot – dr

Tickets: 25 / 15 PLN

7.00 p.m.

_________________
DWÓR CZECZÓW, ks. Jerzego Popiełuszki St. 36
phone no. (48) 12 651 39 13
Funk De Nite
Ryszard Krawczuk – sax
Piotr Grząślewicz – g
Piotr ” Quentin ” Wojtanowski – bg
Artur Malik – dr
Free entrance
__________________
9:00 p.m.
HARRIS PIANO JAZZ BAR, Square Market 28
phone no. (48) 12 421 57 41
www.harris.krakow.pl
Piotr Nalepa Breakout Tour
Jean – voc
Piotr Nalepa – g
Robert Lubera – g, voc
Piotr ”Quentin” Wojtanowski – bass, voc
M.Jurkiewicz – keyb
W.Fedkowicz – dr
Tickets: 30 / 25 PLN

HARRIS PIANO JAZZ BAR, Square Market 28
phone no. (48) 12 421 57 41
Nocna Zmiana Bluesa
(The Blues Night-Shift Group)
Sławek Wierzcholski – harmonijka, voc
Witek Jąkalski – g
Maras Dąbrowski – g
Piotr Dąbrowski – bass, voc
Grzegorz Minicz – dr, tara

Tickets: 30 / 25 PLN

8.00 p.m.
DRUKARNIA “Podgórze”- Nadwiślańska St. 1
phone no. (48) 12 656 65 60
www.drukarnia_podgorze.republika.pl
1. Eryk Kulm International Quartet
Sulaiman Hakim – sax, g, voc
Longineu Parsons – tp
Paweł Tomaszewski – p
Andrzej Zielak – bass
Eryk Kulm – dr
2. Barabasz Jazz Quartet
Maciej Matthew Barabasz – g
Patrick Mulcahy – bass
Clifton Wallace – dr
Marcin Żupański – sax
Tickets: 35 / 25 PLN
__________________
9.00 p.m.
HARRIS PIANO JAZZ BAR, Square Market 28
phone no. (48) 12 421 57 41
Funk De Nite
Ryszard Krawczuk – sax
Artur Malik – dr
Piotr Grząślewicz – g
Piotr ” Quentin ” Wojtanowski – bg

Tickets: 30 / 25 PLN

Free entrance
__________________
9.00 p.m.
HARRIS PIANO JAZZ BAR, Square Market 28
phone no. (48) 12 421 57 41
Kattorna – Tribute to Komeda
Dawid Główczewski – saxs
Grzegorz Rogala – tb
Kuba Cichocki – p
Andrzej Zielak – double bass
Krzysztof Szmańda – dr

Tickets: 30 / 25 PLN

__________________
9.00 p.m.
HARRIS PIANO JAZZ BAR, Square Market 28
phone no. (48) 12 421 57 41
Beale Street Band
M.Korzyńska – voc
A.Marchewka – cornet
R.Zydroń – sax
T.Gmyrek – tb
G.Piętak – bass
A.Popiel – dr
J.M.Bożyk – p, voc
Tickets: 20 / 15 PLN

Free entrance

________________
10.00 p.m.
PIEC ART, Szewska St. 12
phone no. (48) 12 429 64 25
Mateusz Smoczyński Quintet

Tickets: 20 / 15 PLN

__________________

6.00 p.m.
Screening of a documentary on Zbigniew Seifert entitled “Passion”
dir. Erin Harper
www.passion-themovie.com the screening is followed by a concert:
1. Zach Brock – vln
Jan Jarczyk – p
Jan Gonciarczyk – bass
Bronisław Suchanek – bass
Janusz Stefański – dr
2. Władysław „Adzik” Sendecki – p
Tickets: 45 / 30 PLN
__________________
10.00 p.m.
KLUB ALCHEMIA, Estery St. 5
phone no. (48) 12 421 22 00
Adam Pierończyk Trio

Tickets: 25 / 20 PLN

Jazz-Klub U Muniaka, Floriańska St. 3
phone no. (48) 12 423-12-05
Jam session
Tickets: 50 PLN

Free entrance

__________________
8.00 p.m.
DRUKARNIA “Podgórze” – Nadwiślańska St. 1
ph. +48 12 656 65 60
The 10th anniversary of The Globetrotters group
www.globetrotters.vernet.pl
Bernard Maseli – vib. el
Nippy Noya – perc
Jerzy Głowaczewski – saxs
Kuba Badach – voc
Tickets: 30 / 20 PLN

Sunday marked one of the biggest celebrations of the year in Haitian culture.  Gede (also spelled Ghede) is the Voodoo celebration of the Day of the Dead which falls on the Catholic All Souls’ Day.

Jillian, Devon, and I went to the national cemetary in Port-Au-Prince with one of Jillian’s co-worker’s friends to check it out.  We were told it was a spectacle, and what we saw lived up to the hype.  (WARNING: some of the photos are a little intense)

Haitians use this holiday to honor their ancestors by bringing food (bread, rice and beans) and drinks (mostly coffee and rum) as an offering to those who have died.  They then light candles and say prayers around their offering.

Voodoo is practiced by pretty much all Haitians, but it is usually mixed with the Catholicism which was brought by the slave-owners that controlled the island of Hispaniola centuries ago.

This chapel was located in the middle of the cemetary.  The service going on here was one of the first things we saw, and it paled in comparison to what was next.

Just outside the door was a little stand with all you could ever need for the voodoo celebration, including voodoo dolls!  I got a voodoo doll of my brother Aiden, and started tickling it immediately.

We snaked through the graves just around the corner from the chapel where the real celebration had already started.  A couple hundred people had gathered around a monument to the Voodoo “Loa” Baron Semedi.

A Loa is likened to a saint or an angel, but is more a liason between the living and the dead, interfering with human affairs if needed.  Gede is actually the name of a specific family of Loa, and Baron Semedi is the head of that family.

What happened next is best described by this article in the San Francisco Chronicle: “The spiritual adepts, the women called mambos and the men called houngans (HONE-gahn), joined by drummers and singers, will pray at a cross rising from a tomb, the symbol of Baron Samedi, summoning the spirits. And then the partying begins.”

Well, before jumping up to the top of the cross, the Houngan above took out some safety pins and stuck them through his cheeks and neck.  Don’t ask me why.  They were just run-of-the-mill safety pins which didn’t appear to be that sharp.  It looked horribly painful.

After jumping up on the cross, he doused himself in white powder to make himself resemble the dead and then started to chant at the people below.

But this guy wasn’t the only one acting possessed.  On the ground there were women who were preparing to do something that we thought was a joke when we had heard about it earlier.

Dressed in all white, when these women became “possessed” they would take habanero peppers and stick them into their genitalia as proof that the spirits had taken over their bodies.  No joke.  The peppers are soaked in a white rum called Clarin, which is supposed to be a favorite of the Gede spirits.

While there were a bunch of people who were taking this to the extreme, a lot of it appeared to be a show for both Haitians and Blancs alike.  It was because it was such a spectacle that I was able to bring my camera into the national cemetery.  Any other day I would be a little nervous to do so.

It took a lot of time to digest what we had seen.  Aside from the craziness of the Voodoo, the paths of the cemetary were lined with the poor who had come for free food that was given as part of the holiday.  The whole experience was something you would see in National Geographic, not through your own eyes (or through a camera).  It was intense.

And while there were those who stuck peppers in their naughty parts, most people went to pray and truly reflect on those who had died.  It was a really powerful thing to witness. (The woman below is holding a bottle with the peppers in it)

Other than Jillian, it’s things like this that make me want to go back as soon as possible.  The culture and the people of Haiti are so interesting that you can’t help but want to learn more.  It’s pretty exciting that I will be covering this full-time when I’m down there, and even if no one in the States is interested in the footage, I’ll have these pictures for myself forever.

Things are continuing to stay busy here in Rome.  Classes are speeding along and I have been spending a lot of time studying and trying to keep up with the readings.  However, the 2-mile walk each day, to and from class, gives me an hour to just relax and walk with friends.  It is always difficult to be just starting at a new institution because the tunnel seems so long, but I have been assured by many of the newly ordained deacons that their time here in Rome has flown by.  It is pretty amazing that I left the United States three and a half months ago.  On one hand it doesn’t feel like it has been very long, but it also seems like it has been a long time since I have seen my family.  This is ironic because I talk to them a lot and can even video chat with them via Skype.

While things have been normal at the seminary and at the University, this last week was special.  Jean, the Secretary of the Vocations Office for the Archdiocese of Oklahoma City, and her husband, Tom, visited Rome for their first time.  It was nice to be able to spend some time with someone I know from Oklahoma City.  We saw a lot of the sights of Rome, enjoyed some great meals, and we even prayed at the bones of St. Peter (thanks to my diocesan brother, Cory).  This was a travel weekend at the North American College, but I have been telling the other seminarians that I “went to Rome for the weekend!”  The city is so large and I have been so busy that I have neglected to see a lot of the historical sights of the Eternal City.  It was a great weekend and I discovered a lot about the city.  It was also great to show Jean and Tom around St. Peter’s Basilica and the North American College.

Sunday, November 1, 2009, was All Saints Day in the Roman Catholic Church.  It is the day that we celebrate the lives of the Saints that have lived in this world and have led their lives to glorify God.  For Sunday Mass, we went to The Pontifical Basilica of St. Paul Outside the Walls.  The Basilica was magnificent and very large.  We even went into the courtyard of the Benedictine Monastery and saw fragments of a lot of marble sarcophagi with early Christian markings on them.  There was also a beautiful little museum and Relic Room, complete with St. Paul’s staff.  There was also a very large tapestry with a depiction of St. Paul’s shipwreck near Malta.  It was pretty cool to think to myself that I had just been there just a few weeks ago.

Monday, November 2, 2009, was All Souls Day in the Roman Catholic Church.  It was also my birthday.  It is a tradition in the Church to bring to minds our loved ones whom have gone before us into the Kingdom of Heaven.  There was an option to have Mass within the North American College’s Mausoleum located in Campo Verano.  I had never been to an Italian cemetery prior to this trip and I was surprised with what I found.  In the United States, we are used to green fields with small gravestones.  However, there are so many people here, and they have been hundreds and hundreds of years of deaths, that they have had to adopt a system to deal with death.  The cemetery was composed of small, casket-sized plots with a stone lid and then a headstone covered with names and pictures of the deceased members of that family.  Some of the family plots were simple, but others were massive and quite expansive.  From what I was told, when a family member dies, they place the body beneath the stone lid and wait for the body to decompose.  They then place the bones in a small ossuary-type box and then place it in a different chamber.  There is also not a one-time fee for the plot.  If a plot is not continually paid for, the remains are disposed of, probably by cremation, the monument is destroyed, and then a new family may purchase the plot.  They also do not embalm the bodies, so there was a slight stench from the decomposing bodies.

Deep within the tight walkways, we came upon a beautiful red-bricked building overlooking the rest of the cemetery.  This tall, four-level mausoleum is where the earthly remains of around ten seminarians and faculty from the Pontifical North American College are entombed.  Instead of a small box for their bones, each body was placed behind a 5 or 6-foot wide, marble monument with their name, diocese, and age of death written in Latin.  When seminarians could only travel here by ocean, it would take a long time to get from Italy back to the United States, so if a seminarian or faculty member died, they were buried in this mausoleum.  One of the seminarians, Frank Parater, is being considered by the Vatican to become a Saint.  He is currently considered a “Servant of God”, which is only two steps away from becoming a Saint.  He died in 1920, after living a life in which inspired many people.  His young life evolved around prayer and he eventually discerned that God was calling him to become a Catholic Priest.  He eventually was sent by the Diocese of Richmond to study at the Pontifical North American College.  At the age of 23, he passed away and was buried at the mausoleum.  While he sounded like an amazing guy, his Last Will and Testament is really what caught everyone’s attention.

• “I have nothing to leave or to give but my life and this I have consecrated to the Sacred Heart to be used as He wills…This is what I live for and in case of death what I die for. …Since my childhood, I have wanted to die for God and my neighbor. Shall I have this grace? I do not know, but if I go on living, I shall live for this same purpose; every action of my life here is offered to God for the spread and success of the Catholic Church in Virginia. …I shall be of more service to my diocese in Heaven than I can ever be on earth.”

During the Mass of All Souls Day at the mausoleum of the North American College, I stood right next to his tomb.  What a wonderful blessing it was to realize that God tries endlessly to stir our spirit to follow Jesus Christ.  Even in Frank Parater’s final days of his illness, he kept God’s will as his focus and was completely reliant on Him.  The more I learn about him, the more I wish I could have met him in person.  That is the whole point of even venerating the Saints within the Catholic Church.  They provide examples for us of people that have followed God with complete trust and have showed us a glimpse of the Father’s love.

The rest of my birthday was pretty normal.  It was raining all day, so I was not able to go out for dinner with some of my friends, but I received a lot of birthday wishes from the seminarians within the North American College and from my friends in the United States.  I even received a special call from Mrs. Wynn’s 5^th Grade Class at All Saints Catholic School in Norman, Oklahoma.  During our short video chat, they sang “Happy Birthday” to me.  They are special kids and I really appreciate their prayers and support.  They are the future of our Church and I have been very impressed with their love for God and his Church.

Today I visited Holy Ascension cemetery and photographed the Norbertines from St.Michael’s Abbey while they prayed and blessed the departed. They first stopped by the Norbertine graves and then prayed at the graves of the people that had family buried there. What a sight it was with the Norbertines processing from grave to grave. Here are a few photographs I took on monday at the Abbey and today at the cemetery. To see my website visit www.rickbelcherphotography.com

May the Souls of the faithfully departed Rest in Peace.

Full moon on All Souls Day.

Last night, I spent an hour-and-a-half in a cemetery celebrating All Souls Day.

That’s right, celebrating. Vincentians all around me were drinking, lighting candles, taking pictures, and shooting off fireworks, honoring the memories of their deceased loved ones.

Raymond, another bakery employee, urged me to visit the grave of his wife who passed away from cancer. He didn’t mourn his wife’s death. We sat and talked about what made her laugh; Raymond reminisced about how happy they were together.

I couldn’t help but appreciate this positive perspective that everyone seemed to share on this festive day.

I trekked back to the house where everyone (myself, Ate Jhoanape, Kuya Randy, JirahMae, Auntie Eppie, Uncle Fidel, and Auntie Alice) sat down around the table for a feast.

Here’s a little history: According to Western Christian Theology, All Souls Day is celebrated on the 2nd of November after All Saints Day. All Saints Day recognizes beatified and unknown saints while All Souls Day remembers the faithful departed – those who have not entered the gates of Heaven.

Here’s the scene at the Tacloban Public Cemetery on All Saints’ Day & All Souls’ Day – November 1 & 2 respectively.

From all accounts the public cemetery had been declared full and closed to new burials, and yet, each year we find new tombs sprouting all over, even on what has been considered for years as public passage ways. As such, visiting the dearly departed nowadays is not for the elderly ones, as the old pathways have been turned into obstacle courses – one has to climb over new tombs just to get through to the family graveyard.

This public cemetery’s time has come to an end. It’s full to the brim, literally overflowing. It deserves a proper finis and burial, the proper maintenance and the respect due of a sacred burial ground.

Not the kind one sees today.

View the full gallery and slideshow: http://gerryruiz.callezaragosa.com/p5175950

View the full gallery and slideshow: http://gerryruiz.callezaragosa.com/p5175950

It’s now almost a year since my father-in-law passed away.   Our plan was to pay him a visit on November 1 (or else he will) at the cemetery in Bulacan.  Everything and everyone was well prepared for the trip.  However we woke up behind schedule because of the preparations and internet browsing last night.

We were supposed to wake up around 5am to leave early to avoid the usual traffic.  Rushing to avoid the anticipated heavy traffic we decided to just eat breakfast on the way.  I decided to bring a couple of Century Gourmet Bangus Fillet and some bread for the trip.  The wind outside was so strong that it made us think twice about the trip. But the thought of my father-in-law visiting us helped me with my decision.

Contrary to what I expected, traffic was smooth.  It’s because of typhoon Santi-santita. People also have decided not to go to their provinces to fix their homes damaged by typhoons Ondoy-da boy and Pepeng-basa(not in anyway related to pepeng kuryente, pepeng agimat, pepeng paniki nor pepeng kulob).  As soon as we reached NLEX I brought out my Century Gourmet Bangus Fillet and bread for our on-the-go breakfast.  I wanted to take a picture of the moment with my DSLR but I was afraid that someone would stand up and declare a hold up.

After a 45 minute bus ride and a 15 minute tricycle ride, we reached our destination. Upon arrival we were greeted by relatives followed by the usual chikahan.  The kids were already playing out in the field.  I saw the cow and calf that I used to feed, the goats I chased, the native chickens whom their parents I ate and the ducks that I have yet to taste.  Having said that, I introduced everyone to my latest discovery – Century Gourmet Bangus Fillet. This time I opened the one with tausi.

Later that day we decided to treat everyone for dinner.  We decided to cook spaghetti.  Me and my wife together with a niece walked 20 minutes to reach the street and waited for a ride.  No jeepney or tricycle went by so we walked for another 30 minutes just to reach a mini grocery. We bought pasta and ingredients and ice cream.  This time we were able to get a tricycle to head back home or else the ice cream would have melted.  We had spaghetti and ice cream for dinner (parang birthday lang).

The following day we were already on our way to the cemetery at 7am to prepare.  We have set up a very big umbrella and tarpaulin for shade then went back home.  After lunch we went back to the cemetery to pay our respect and offer prayers. I brought two more cans of Century Gourmet Bangus Fillet for snacks.  There were already a lot of people at the cemetery.  The heat and the lack of cold air had the kids and teens irritated.  I opened up both cans and voila! Just like magic, everyone’s mood changed.  I was so busy taking pictures that I didn’t notice that there was none left for me.

exchanging variants

Later that night we rented a jeep and went home.  I predicted that we will no longer be able to cook my baon for the following day.  It is imperative that I bring lunch to save money for Christmas.  Good thing I left one more can of Century Gourmet Bangus Fillet at home for my office lunch.

At the office everyone was curious with what my baon is.  Everyone liked it.  We all wanted to sleep after lunch but the we still have 4 hours of work to do. A full healthy meal, no traffic and additional 30% pay for the holiday, a great way to start the week.

Century Gourmet Bangus Fillet is truly for everybody, everywhere;  anytime, anywhere.

Every now and then we visit our loved ones in the cemetery,
To let them know we didn’t forget about them.
That we treasure the values and memories they have left us.

Being in the cemetery is also a get together or gathering with our relatives.

But do we know the purpose in going to the cemetery?

Fr. Alcris our parish priest emphasized that going to the cemetery is not having reunion or get together, neither a party nor beer house.

It’s not also because it has been our culture to go there or it has been thought to us by our elders.

But,the main reason why we need to go there is because we need to pray for them and show our loved ones that they are not forgotten.

Yes it’s not bad to have a get together or gathering, to eat and drink there but we should always remember that above all we should pray first. Thats the thought Fr. Alcris teaches the people who went to church last Sunday.

Although my relatives is not complete this year at least everyone did make an effort to go there and pray for my grand father, aunt, and cousin. My grand mother is always the one leading the prayer and we all follow.

Knowing the true meaning of going to the cemetery is very important to know, because most of us are mistakenly interpreting the true meaning of it.

MY PRAYER

Dear God,

I pray for my grand father, aunt, cousins, and relatives which has departed and now who is joining you in your kingdom. I am here praying just to let them know that they are not forgotten. As your son, I also pray for the souls in porgatory that I am still bound by charity to try to lessen the suffering of the holy souls through my prayer and deeds. These I ask to you Lord God. Amen.

My husband asked me yesterday why we give candy to kids on Halloween.  I didn’t really have an answer for him.  I guess it really doesn’t make sense does it?   I can kind of figure out that wearing the costumes has something to do with keeping away bad spirits or monsters of sorts…or it may have also been to blend in with the creatures that come out on All Hallow’s Eve so that they do not find you.  That makes sense.  It changed during the years and just became a fun day to dress up.

Back to the candy though.  Why do we go trick-or- treating?  Well, I have found the answer!

Trick or treating can be traced back to pagan times when food and drink would be left outside the house for the roaming spirits. Through time this became the custom of the poor called “going souling”. On All Souls Day (November 2) in early England, the poor would travel from house to house begging for food. They were given “soul cakes”, a kind of fruit cake, and in return would pray for the departed.  Courtesy of Associated Content

 There you go…another tradition that has changed through time to join the world of commercialized holidays!!  I can say that I enjoyed it yesterday, not because I went trick-or-treating but because I got to dress my newborn daughter as an Angel and she looked adorable if I do say so myself!!

All Saints, All Souls, 2009

The Pacific
The Philippines
Indonesia
Samoa

Al Robles
Smitu Kothari
Alison des Forges

Iraq
Afghanistan
Palestine
Israel

Iran
Pakistan
Korea
Cuba

Bill Sorro
Rudy Tenio
Helen Toribio
BJ Alisago
Jeff Trinidad
Gina Hotta
Danillo Orcullo

Sudan
Congo
Uganda
Nepal
Tibet
Kashmir
Burma
Somolia
Sri Lanka
Honduras
…

The Womyn
The Matriarch
Our Earth

Meding Basbas
Miguel Basbas

Alfonso Angel.

I ran into an acquaintance at a dinner several weeks ago.  When I introduced him to Rosario, he quickly realized which of my sisters she was – the one who had been shot.  He knew only the basic facts of her ordeal and some of those facts were second- and third-hand.  Rosario clarified several things and shed light on a few others.  At one point, he turned to me in awe and said, “You didn’t tell me I was meeting a miracle!”

My sister’s story is quite miraculous, considering she should have dropped dead as soon as the bullet entered her chest.  Her doctors were astounded that she survived, and they were equally amazed that the bullet seemed to weave around Rosario’s vital organs, which is one of the main reasons she did survive.  It is a privilege and honor to share all the miracles – large and small- that contributed to my sister’s new lease on life, with others.   When we encounter miracles, we are reminded of God’s mercy and are left in awe of His power, as was the acquaintance from the dinner.  Such tangible examples of God’s greatness fill us with joy and hope.  It is a joy my family does not wish to keep to ourselves, which is why we openly share my sister’s story.

The miracle of Rosario’s survival is easy to recognize, but there are many miracles we encounter every day that are not as obvious.  I am in no way undermining the extravagant miracles God performed that allowed my sister to live, but I have been very convicted about all the other miracles I come across daily and take for granted.

Between celebrating the Feast of All Saints yesterday and the Feast of All Souls today, I realized that I interact with the miracle of life every day through co-workers, family members, roommates, friends, coffeehouse baristas, clients, random people in the check-out line, etc.  Unfortunately I get so caught up in my own little world that I often miss these opportunities to verify the marvelous wonder of each life.  I am quick to dismiss those I come in contact with or see them as interruptions because I’m busy or tired rather than take a moment to validate their personhood.

The miracle of life is under attack from all sides, whether it’s abortion, euthanasia, or the sanctity of marriage and family life.  Although there are many ways I can take a stand against these very real threats to humanity, it can be overwhelming.  While getting involved is good, opening another’s eyes to the miracle of his or her own life by recognizing it and acknowledging it can have a deep impact in the fight for life.

It will take a little extra effort at first, but I am going to do my best to recognize these every day miraculous encounters and respond to them with the same awe and wonder with which my acquaintance responded to his miraculous encounter with my sister.

Mexico's Dios de los muertos ... a day to celebrate our lost loved ones.

Today is All Soul’s Day. It’s a day to remember the dearly departed, especially those who have recently left us. I’d like to dedicate today’s post to two beautiful souls who passed away this week — my in-laws. At 96, they were both an inspiration to me in so many ways. And neither one of them would ever have called any of the thoughtful gestures and kind words and actions they shared daily — no, hourly — as good deeds. To them, it was second-nature to put yourself in another’s shoes and treat each person with compassion and understanding. I still have so much to learn from them.

One of the many things I learned by watching my father-in-law in action was the way he took a special interest in every person who crossed his path. Whether it was a waitress, a store clerk or a bank president, he treated each individual with the same warmth and courtesy, genuinely interested in who they were and what they were about.

He was a master at turning a brief encounter with a stranger into a warm exchange that invariably left that person a little cheerier as they went on their way.

I did try to do that today. And I will try to do that every day. For Flos and for Poppo.

P.S. Here’s a song that reminds me of my in-laws, both great opera lovers. Enjoy!

This isn’t going to be an easy day — shoot, it’s not going to be an easy month!

November typically is the time when we Catholics honor/celebrate/remember our deceased loved ones, starting with All Saints Day on the first and then All Souls Day on the second. The idea is that, by recalling and praying for our faithful dead on Nov. 2, we acknowledge them as still being members of our Church, alive in Christ, and never far from our hearts.

In some countries (Mexico, for instance), Day of the Dead celebrations are joyful ones, with special foods and colorful altars. Other countries hold to the folk belief that souls are released from Purgatory for one day and allowed to return to earth; consequently, some families leave a window open or set a place at table for their dead family members. Still others visit graves, sometimes with picnics. You can read more here: www.fisheaters.com/customstimeafterpenticost12ac.html

Last year at this time, I sailed blissfully through this holiday. Death hadn’t touched my family — other than elderly grandparents and some distant relatives — and, while we attended the required Church services and recited the prayers, it was all more of a ritual than anything else. Not so today.

This past Dec. 31, we lost my dad after a courageous three-year battle with esophageal cancer. Yes, he smoked cigarettes; yes, he drank liquor; and yes, according to his doctor, those bad habits were what killed him.

So tonight, we’ll go to Church carrying a picture of Daddy that will be left on a memorial table for the entire month. We’ll participate in a candle-lighting ceremony, recite the prayers, shed some tears, and probably hug each other a bit longer and tighter. We’ll also try to be kinder and more patient with others.

It’s what Daddy would have wanted.

Boo, everyone! Stop eating that leftover Halloween candy. I had 4 bags and 0 trick-or-treaters. But I have eaten only one piece of candy. My secret? I only buy candy I don’t like.

This is a busy weekend for Christians and Sikhs (more on that later). After the Saturday Halloween festivities, Sunday dawned on All Saints Day. This is a Christian holiday, though when I was growing up it was only really marked by Catholics and Anglicans/Episcopalians. But in the last 20 years or so, more Protestant groups have recognized the value of remembering the lives of the mystics and seers who came before us, whether they name them “saints” or not.

And today is All Souls Day, another Christian holiday largely celebrated by the more liturgically-based churches, that commemorates those who have died before us. Now, if you are Catholic, you are remembering specifically those who have gone before us and may not yet be in heaven. No matter what your faith, remembering and praying for those who are gone is a good thing.

So, in that spirit, here is a prayer to use on prayer beads or alone for the saints and souls we want to remember for what they can teach us – love, patience and the value of living life to the fullest. It comes from the United Methodist Church’s  “Remembering the Saints: 21st Century Resource for All Saints Day” by Rev. Nathan Decker

You, Lord, have shown us light:
The light of a million candles sharing their faith.

The light of saints past,
the living tradition of the redeemed,
the resurrection retelling,
the passing of this flame from generation to generation.

We Remember,
We Remember,
We Remember, and
because of you in them, we walk in the candlelight of Christ.

And I promised a word about Sikhism.  Today, Sikhs around the world celebrate Guru Nanak Jayanti, the birthday of Guru Nanak, the founder of their faith. Sikhs celebrate by reading the Guru Granth Sahib, their sacred text, aloud and sing hymns and have feasts. I urge you, if you live anywhere near a gurdwara, (and you probably do!)  to stop by there on this day or any other. In my experience as a religion reporter, I have found Sikhs to always be most welcoming of people to their temples and their festivities. Like most people, all they crave is understanding. You will probably also get a lovely and graciously-served vegetarian meal out of it. If you like, go in the spirit of All Souls Day to remember the Arizona Sikh killed in the wake of the 9/11 attacks because someone thought his turban meant he was a Muslim. Go and remember andenjoy.

Here is a prayer attributed to Guru Nanak himself. I think you’ll see it will work for people of many faiths:

“The True One was there from time immemorial.

He is there today and ever there you will find Him.

He never died nor will he ever die . . .

Look within, you will see Him there enshrined.”

In keeping with the morbid start to November (Nov. 2 is All Soul’s Day and El Dia de Los Muertos), today is Plan Your Epitaph Day. For some help, I perused the dark HardieHouse site, which offers classic epitaph examples and dire warnings about what happens to your grave if you don’t write your own epitaph and leave it to someone else. For example, the site lists this one:

Here lies the body of Richard Hind,
who was neither ingenious, sober or kind.

After reading that, I was convinced this is a worthwhile endeavor. But what to say about myself? Can’t I just pay someone to do it? Apparently, yes. Lance Hardie is epitaph author extraordinaire, but as he says, he ain’t cheap. (He does offer free epitaphs to “prisoners on death row and U.S. military personnel with orders to report to a combat zone.” Seriously.)

So it looks like I’m stuck writing this for myself. Alright. Ahem. Ahem again. Here goes:

Here lies S, who once blew her nose
so hard
that out came her toes.

Err, maybe not. My partner, however, is much better at this:

G died while proving men can fly.
Some say he was just falling with style.

For more entertaining epitaphs, check out MTWorld.com’s list. So far, this is best list I’ve found. One of my favorites:

Here lies an Atheist
All dressed up
And no place to go.

Happy All Souls’ Day!

]]> http://salmagundiexpress.wordpress.com/2009/11/02/november-2-all-souls-day/ Mon, 02 Nov 2009 05:24:04 +0000 stitcher5407 http://salmagundiexpress.wordpress.com/2009/11/02/november-2-all-souls-day/

When my brother in St. Louis e-mailed my mother over the weekend, he said he wished he’d been able to locate some blank sugar skulls so he could write my father’s name on one for Day of the Dead. I searched around on the Internet and found that we could have ordered some, or even gotten molds and made our own.

I also found a crochet pattern for a skull, and considered making one, then embroidering Dad’s name, along with the other decorative flourishes. But I realized I suffer from some kind of cultural disconnect from the whole Day of the Dead ritual.

For one thing, I just can’t write loved ones’ names on skulls. I guess Mexican culture is healthier because they robustly face the reality of mortality, bones and all. I’m not sure I could write even pets’ names on skulls. It’s not a ritual I’m accustomed to; and because of that, I guess, it makes me uncomfortable. I like the decorated skulls as motifs, and I’ve even toyed with the idea of getting some of the little Day of the Dead figurines; but I could never assign specific personas of deceased loved ones to the figures.

I think another problem specifically related to my father is that the whole idea of a candy skull with a dead relative’s name written on it would have been abhorrent to him – especially his name. And he definitely wouldn’t have been into the decorative style of the embellished skulls, all the bright colors and flowers and curlicues. (Of course, it kind of amuses me to imagine his face if he saw one of these skull tributes to him. I doubt he would have known what to make of it.)

I also thought about the ofrenda. Besides the basic things, like flowers and water and a razor, I don’t know what I’d put on the altar. He was a recovering alcoholic with cirrhosis of the liver, so any kind of booze doesn’t seem right. He gave up smoking years ago, but the heavy smoking he did for over half his life probably contributed to the stroke that killed him. Not to mention many of his favorite foods, from Big Boys to barbecue ribs to the six or seven eggs he claimed to have eaten for many a breakfast.

I think my altar will have to be mental this year. Instead of setting out ofrenda and decorating sugar skulls, I’m cross-stitching the tombstones on a Sleepy Hollow sampler I’ve been working on all autumn. As I embroider the headstones in various shades of gray, I think of Dad, and his sister Margaret, and of Auda, a family friend who passed away during October. Funny, I think I could create special tombstones for them out of  something like fondant, do a really first-rate job and not feel a bit uncomfortable. Again, I guess it all comes down to culture.

Next year I’ll think ahead about making and decorating candy skulls. But not ths year. Not yet.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————–

What is my own cultural experience with All Soul’s Day? When it fell on a school day when I was a kid, we sometimes participated in a special Mass, very somber, with a cart set in the middle of the center aisle of St. Cecilia’s and covered with a purple and black cloth with a cross on it. This was to represent a coffin. It was all very funeral-like and somber. There was nothing of a celebration about it.

I think there was something about indulgences and getting souls out of purgatory as well. I remember one year going in and out of the church during lunch period with other girls in my class. We’d been told that every time someone went to church and said a certain prayer on All Soul’s Day, it freed a soul from purgatory, so we did our darndest to send as many spirits as possible to Heaven. That was more uplifting than the leaden mourning of everyone who had ever died. And maybe, just maybe, we honored some poor dead soul in a very meaningful way.