From August 29 to September 2, a Multicultural Dialogue was held in Guadalajara and was reported in this newspaper on September 7 by John Pint. Many of the participants in this inter-faith gathering considered it a landmark moment because it managed to bring together widely differing religions, philosophies and beliefs which, in some cases, had previously dedicated much of their energy to slandering or even slaughtering one another.
Here, Elias Gonzalez, a student of philosophy at ITESO (Guadalajara’s Jesuit University), presents his reflections of the event. The translation is by Bill Quinn.
Ever since I was little I’ve loved reading about religions, cultures, history – how I see myself as syncretic. Sometimes I feel I’m too Catholic to be Buddhist, too new age to be Catholic, and too Buddhist to be new age. But I can’t help but wonder, are these three positions really so separate that they can’t co-exist?
ThursdayThe Museum of Archeology of Western Mexico needed cleansing. It seemed like an old tree that had witnessed much, far too much hatred and violence; there was a heaviness, an overwhelming gray atmosphere. When I arrived, I ran into Manuel, my pragmatic meditation teacher, together with a marakame (Huichol shaman) and other people in a line, carrying out a cleansing ritual in the dark, old building. I joined them. If the energy I had felt was dark and old, when I opened channels to carry out the cleansing, a surge of feelings rose up in me: the place had been a seminary, and then a military headquarters. Lord knows what went on in that space, but the energy was clear enough. It was Mexico in miniature: its wounds and sufferings were concentrated there. The atmosphere was suffocating, I couldn’t breathe, and only the strength of all of us together could cleanse and heal something like that. We finished the cleansing ritual and the Multicultural Dialogue began just a few minutes behind schedule.
Dancers from the ancient past purified the stage with divine, ancestral movements, their meaning lost and recovered generations before. Their feathers fluttered through space; hundreds of people had gathered in response to the call to a change of consciousness – fewer than hoped but more than I expected. It was the right number. The sound of the drum ushered in the guests of honor – government officials, representatives of the Parliament of Religions with its headquarters in Chicago, and members of Carpe Diem (a Guadalajara-based, humanistic association) walked up onto the stage one by one to take their places. One of our indigenous sisters, of the Purepecha people, of universal blood and voice, spoke first. She gave permission, expressed her emotion and gratitude, on her own behalf and on behalf of the indigenous of this earth … she gave permission, and then the deluge was on us. The tent was of no use: enormous hailstones tore through the plastic and water flowed freely everywhere. People ran and shouted, and the volunteers jumped into action with a mix of frustration and rapid response as we set about controlling the people and saving the electronic equipment. I spontaneously hugged a friend of mine and laughed, laughed for joy. This wasn’t “bad luck” or cause for frustration. It was the necessary purification. Our cleansing ritual had not been enough: Tláloc himself had intervened to finish the purging of the premises. It was a beautiful spectacle, a display of humility in the midst of so much paraphernalia and superficiality with which we had surrounded ourselves. The message was that this event was to be simple, without so many flashing lights, without so many exterior things. The inauguration took place in an adjacent hall while a chorus of angel-like voices sang “En son de paz” (“In peace”) with all their strength, without microphones and without background music, with just a natural amplifier and an unmatched symphony of rain and hail. And then the rain stopped. And then, the Xipe Totec dancers, with whom I have had the privilege to dance, did the most beautiful prayer: the dance of Quetzalcóatl. Many people had run from the museum when the rain came. Nevertheless, the dance drew a crowd. We all took hands and shouted, “Eiaeiaaaa! Eiaeiaaaa!” Energy and ecstasy flowed through each one of the participants. We became a single feathered serpent dancing and flying over the Earth, purifying the building and the place where the event would truly take place, transforming the hearts of one and all. Thus day one came to an end …
Friday
I listened for a moment to a panel with Jorge Manzano, co-founder of Carpe Diem, Rabbi Joshua, a minister from the Anglican Church, a priest from the Catholic diocese and Ernesto, an expert in music. Jorge surprised everyone with his soccer metaphor, in which every player on the team represents a different tradition: the Catholic is the goalkeeper, the Buddhist plays midfield, the striker is from the Bahá’í faith, and so on. Jorge posed the following question: “If the Jew makes a bad pass to the Bahá’í, who then misses the shot, who loses the game?” The answer made a deep impression on all of us: “The whole team,” said a member of the audience. Correct answer. In the final analysis it doesn’t matter what our tradition is. The fact is we all play on the same team, competing in this world to make it a kinder, more compassionate place where love and peace reign. That’s the common goal, the goal that we all want to score. But we have to do it as a team knowing that it’s the only way. If one misses, we all miss; if one scores, we all score …
Saturday evening
The whole museum came to a halt and the attention of all the participants, speakers and volunteers was concentrated on the central courtyard. It was the blessing ceremony. José Antonio, a great teacher whom I had just met at the event, and I, were in charge of backstage operations. The speakers and representatives of the cultures and traditions took their place on the stage: Sebastián, Ana Tere, Mario, Guadalupe, Susana, Evelia, Jorge, representatives of the Ecumenical Church, the Anglican Church, Pedro Pablo, Andras, Lauro (Peruvian shaman), Muslims, Jews and representatives of the Parliament of the World’s Religions, one by one, in their own spiritual language, gave us their blessing. Drums sounded, holy water was poured on us, the wind and the Peruvians’ bells moved us, the chants of the shamans and the Celts surrounded us, and the wise, poetic words enlightened us. It was at that moment that Jorge told us, “And may your faces always be beautiful and happy.” That’s the way it was and that’s the way it will be, because the energy that came to us in each of the blessings will urge us on for the rest of our lives. Every time I feel I can’t go on; that the struggle for justice, faith, peace and love is blocked and sabotaged by the corruption and suffering of this world; every time my strength flags or quits me entirely, the memory of that night will be with me, when a few gathered in representation of many. We gave everything we had for a common aspiration, the desire to live together, the desire of love. When the time came, Carlos spoke. I can’t remember his exact words, because I was holding a sign with the Golden Rule: “Treat others as you would treat yourself.” I held it high and with pride so that everyone could see it as we listened to Carlos, the director of Carpe Diem and father to us all. The applause was long, the longest I’ve ever heard in my life; people’s hands and arms did not tire; we took our energy from the atmosphere, and everyone standing, with our feelings stuck in our throats ready to make us burst into tears, we applauded without knowing when it would stop. I can still hear the clapping of all those people, dreamers but realists, mystics but activists, peaceful but committed … We were one sound, one song, a mythical melody, a story, a legend. We lived a legend, a legend whose wind will continue to blow and motivate each and every one of us individually in our particular struggles for peace, and it will motivate us as a community to celebrate once again in two years’ time.