Photo: GVI


As someone who was raised and educated in accordance with a Christian way of thought, the meaning of Christmas this year poses a challenging prospect for celebrating, mainly because Christianism – as it is practiced today – is not the love-professing religion it once claimed to be.

Is Jesus indeed the son of God? Millions of Mexicans and others around the globe think so, and as a Christian-raised individual, I’d like to believe that as well.

But it is one thing to be a Christian, and something very different to be a Mexican Christian. And that’s what I am supposed to be.

Yet I am not.

I’ve perused over the New Testament over and again.

What I have learned is that, in a Land of Prophets (Jerusalem), Jesus was a success because his mother, Mary, proclaimed that she had conceived him through direct contact with the Lord.

In colonial Mexico, Catholic missionaries had no difficulty convincing the indigenous people regarding the validity of their beliefs.

The Mexica (Aztec) believed that the mortal fertility goddess Coatlicue conceived Huitzilopochtli (their most important deity) through divine grace.

In addition, of course, the lucky strike for the Catholic missionaries was the fact that the fecundation dates – Dec. 16 through Dec. 25 – coincided closely with that of the alleged birth of Christ and “proved” Mary’s virginity tale.

This is all in accordance with the winter solstice.

In case you did not notice, this year, Dec. 21 happened to be a lovely day, at least all over Mexico.

Cultural coincidences? It matters not.

The underlying message is one of renewal and regeneration, despite occurring in what is quite literally the darkest days of the year

It is also a season to give thanks and to look back on what has been accomplished and what has not.

And so, I want to thank all of you for reading Pulse News Mexico and for believing in the still-noble calling of trying to convey truth and vetted facts in the face of an ever-more cynical world that far too often prefers to accept the pablum of tainting data and distorted realities over the harsh and sometimes-unsavory gruel of veracity.

Christ, Huitzilopochtli, it matters not.

Faith is what we believe and, more importantly, what we choose to believe.

It is our own visions and perceptions and, hopefully, those perceptions are open to the assimilation of opposing views, or at least hearing them out.

It’s that time of year.




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