Los Díos De Los Muertos

I think if I could choose one event to dramatize the spirit of Mexican religion, it would be the Day of the Dead, or actually Days—Los Días de los Muertos, November 1 and 2. To begin with, I assure you that this name does not sound in the least ghoulish or morbid to a Mexican. The Day of the Dead is perhaps our happiest, most life-affirming holiday. It is the celebration of memory, the time when we really feel we are speaking to and embracing those whom we have lost.

For me the Day of the Dead has been an important moment of the year since before I can remember. But even so, I don’t think I took in the full dimension of meaning until I was a nineteen-year-old college student traveling—in an unchaperoned group of young people for the first time in my life!—to visit the ceremony on an island in Lake Pátzcuaro, in the state of Michoacán. It was a time in the late sixties when educated Mexicans from all over were suddenly “discovering” the richness of Mexican culture and descending in droves on previously untouched spots. So were many European tourists. So I have to say that the Day of the Dead celebration on the island of Janitzio, probably the most famous in all Mexico, already had a strong note of commercialism. But for me it was an astonishing and very moving pageant dedicated to the continuity of life.