Santa María la Mayor’s Islamic Roots and Catholic Grandeur

A repurposed mosque, a connection to Hearst Castle, Virgin Mary processional statues and rooftop views in Ronda, Spain. 

The unassuming façade of Santa María la Mayor reflects the adjacent Ayuntamiento (City Hall) and a Moorish minaret-turned-bell-tower. 

After enjoying a late lunch in Ronda, Spain, on the terrace at Don Miguel, the restaurant of the hotel with the same name, we agreed to visit the Iglesia de Santa María la Mayor (Church of Saint Mary the Great). Wally and I were traveling with our friends Jo and José and were delighted to have them as our local guides for the weekend.

The food was good, but the view overlooking the steep El Tajo gorge and Puente Nuevo bridge was even better. The limestone cliffs plunge 390 feet (120 meters) to the Guadalevín River below the bridge connecting the historic old town (La Ciudad) to its modern counterpart (El Mercadillo). 

“Architect Julia Morgan used the bell tower of Santa María la Mayor as the model for the ones at Hearst Castle, the estate of publishing tycoon William Randolph Hearst in San Simeon, California.”

Ronda’s iconic Puente Nuevo, or New Bridge, certainly isn’t “new” — having been completed in 1793 — but it is the most photographed.

As we navigated the cobblestone streets and approached the church, we paused to gaze up at its unusual double-galleried façade, which looks more municipal than religious. The balconies were added during the reign of Felipe II and were a privileged place for nobility to watch the equestrian tournaments held in the square.

José told us that the American architect Julia Morgan used the bell tower of Santa María la Mayor as the model for the pair at Casa Grande, the main house of Hearst Castle, the elaborate hilltop estate of publishing tycoon William Randolph Hearst in San Simeon, California.

Ronda didn’t just leave a mark on Hearst; it also captivated Ernest Hemingway and Orson Welles, both passionate bullfighting enthusiasts who found refuge here. Welles even chose to have his ashes interred in a dry well on the Recreo San Cayetano estate of his good friend, the matador Antonio Ordóñez, on the outskirts of Ronda.

A copy of the gorgeous illuminated Libro de Horas de la Reina Isabel (Queen Isabella’s Book of Hours). For some reason, the original is at the Cleveland Museum of Art. 

Sacred Transformation: The Evolution of Iglesia de Santa María la Mayor 

The church used Ronda’s principal mosque as its foundation. But long before that, the site was allegedly a Roman temple to Diana, goddess of the hunt. 

The conversion from mosque to church began in earnest following the Reconquista of Ronda by Christian military forces in 1485. By the following year, King Fernando II (1479-1516) reconsecrated it as an abbey dedicated to the Virgin of Encarnación.

A statue of Mary as the Queen of Heaven. One interpretation of the crescent moon she’s standing on is that it represents her perpetual virginity.

During the reign of Charles I (1519-1556), its status was elevated to “colegiata” — a collegiate church — led by a clergy of ordained ministers without the direct involvement of a bishop. Its official title is the Real Colegiata de Santa María de la Encarnación la Mayor de Ronda, but locals commonly refer to it as the Iglesia de Santa María la Mayor due to its 19th-century designation as a “high parish” or “parroquia mayor.” Mass is held on Sundays and public holidays at 1 p.m. and on Thursdays at 8 p.m. April through September. 

Traces of its Islamic past are evident in the square-shaped body and arched windows punctuating the bell tower’s brick exterior, which originally served as the minaret of the mosque. It was probably more cost-effective to appropriate and reuse than to completely rebuild. Even so, the renovation of Santa María la Mayor required substantial funding and took nearly two centuries to complete. 

The remains of the mihrab, a semicircular prayer niche covered with stylized Arabic calligraphy and indicating the direction of Mecca, is visible from within the vestibule. Beyond is the gift shop, where we purchased admission for 4.50€ or about $5 per person to gain entry.   

This three-tiered chandelier suspended from the central vault of the Renaissance nave includes 34 lights and 24,700 pieces of sparkling cut crystal.

Split Personality: The Interior of Santa María la Mayor 

Inside, the ornate space feels more like a cathedral than a church. Constructed in two phases, the Gothic half follows the floor plan of the former mosque, while the enlargement initiated after the earthquake of 1580 reflects the evolution of architectural styles that rose in popularity during its extended completion and renovations, including both Renaissance and Baroque elements.

This altar is an impressive example of Spanish Baroque, a style known for its exuberance, grandeur and rich decorative elements.

The Virgin de la Aurora shows Mary in her aspect as Our Lady of the Dawn, a beacon of hope and a source of spiritual guidance for Catholics.

Altar of the Sagrario

The central nave of the Gothic section features an ornate and detailed Baroque giltwood altarpiece. Standing within a niche beneath a Marian crown is the figure of the Inmaculada, the Virgin Mary, standing on clouds. She’s flanked by representations of her mother, Santa Ana; her father, San Joaquín; and the Arcangel San Rafael. Twisted Solomonic columns, covered with delicately carved grapevines and topped by Corinthian capitals, complete the tableau. During our visit, the revered image of the Virgen de la Aurora (Virgin of the Dawn) was displayed on an elaborate paso, or float used for processions.

The Christ child sits upon the shoulders of the giant Saint Christopher and holds a fancy rattle, er, globus cruciger, a small sphere with a cross affixed to its top, symbolizing his sovereign dominion.

Mural of San Cristobalón

The large-scale mural to the left of the altar depicts a larger-than-life San Cristobalón (Saint Christopher), the patron saint of travelers, carrying the baby Jesus upon his shoulders. It was painted by Rondenian artist José Ramos. 

The dramatic statue of Nuestra Señora del Mayor Dolor (Our Lady of Sorrows) depicts the Virgin Mary with her eyes cast heavenward, heart pierced by a sword, her hands clasped in prayer.

Altar of Nuestra Señora del Mayor Dolor

To the right is a highly ornate Churrigueresque-style altar framing a red velvet-lined niche holding the processional figure of Nuestra Señora del Mayor Dolor (Our Lady of Sorrows), which belongs to the religious brotherhood of the Hermandad del Santísimo Cristo de la Sangre. The sculpture depicts the moment when Mary learns that her son will die for the sins of mankind. Her eyes are lifted upwards and her hands are clasped, holding a rosary. Most dramatically, her heart is pierced with a silver sword, and a pair of cherubs flutter menacingly beneath her — one appears to be holding a hammer, and the other, pincers.

The Renaissance-period choir screen is embellished with imagery of the apostles and other saints and has a lectern stand holding a 16th century antiphonal (choir book). 

Coro

The choir screen was a Renaissance addition and features intricately carved cedarwood reliefs depicting the apostles and other saints. It’s no accident that it was placed strategically at the nave’s center as it served as a partition to divide the church into two social classes: aristocrats to the front and parishioners to the back. The lectern stand supports a 16th century antiphonal (choir book), its musical notations intricately inscribed on pages made of vellum. 

The high altar of Santa María la Mayor has an elaborately carved wooden canopy that showcases the Holy Spirit, the Archangel Gabriel and the Virgin Mary.

Baldaquino of the Altar Mayor

One of the most striking elements of the church is the impressive baldaquino, or canopy, located on the high altar under the central dome of the Renaissance nave. Carved from wood, it consists of four slender, finely carved Solomonic columns that support a towering highly decorated cupola topped by an angel. 

The original altarpiece was destroyed during the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939) and replaced by the baldaquino from Nuestra Señora de los Ángeles (Our Lady of the Angels). 

Within the ornate structure are the Archangel Gabriel and the Holy Spirit in the guise of a dove visiting the Virgin to inform her that she will conceive and give birth to Jesus Christ. 

Be sure to climb up to the rooftop, like Duke did, for a view of Ronda from above.

Up on the Rooftop 

We passed through the doorway to the right of the altar and climbed the narrow steps of the winding spiral staircase leading to the roof and viewing deck.

Jo stands on a balcony overlooking the square and the Ayuntamiento, the City Hall.

While we were there, the late afternoon sun cast a soft, warm glow over the terracotta-tiled rooftops of the old city, and it was so clear that we could see the rugged Sierra Nevada mountains in the distance.

Views of the Old Quarter and the mountains beyond from the rooftop

Seen from above, the spiral staircase leading to the rooftop resembles a snail’s shell. 

There’s a long bench if you need to rest or take a moment to enjoy the view. Make sure to peek through the small door at the top of the staircase to take in a bird’s-eye view of the interior of the church.

A figurine of the Baby Jesus with outstretched arms was one of Duke’s favorite pieces in the church’s museum.

Back Down on Earth

After exploring the rooftop, Jo, José, Wally and I returned to the ground floor and wandered through the church museum. It had several glass-front cabinets displaying various religious objects: vestments (clergy apparel), chalices and sculptures, including a life-sized glassy-eyed baby Jesus, which I imagine might get placed in the church’s crèche on Christmas Day. 

The Iglesia de Santa María la Mayor is a short distance from the Puente Nuevo, but its location in the leafy park-like Plaza Duquesa de Parcent feels a world away from the overcrowded tourist area. –Duke

Colegiata Santa María la Mayor 

Plaza de la Duquesa de Parcent s/n 
29400 Ronda Málaga
Spain  

 

The Mezquita: Córdoba’s Mesmerizing Mosque-Cathedral Hybrid

The Great Mosque of Córdoba, a UNESCO World Heritage site in Andalusia, endures as a monument to Spain’s cross-cultural harmony. 

Ancient Rome, Islamic Spain and Catholicism all come together in the breathtaking Mezquita in Córdoba.

It’s all about those arches. They seem to multiply into infinity, creating a seeming mirror maze of red and white latticework. It’s one of the iconic images that make Córdoba a must-visit stop on any trip to the south of Spain. 

The Mezquita in Córdoba is the perfect symbol of what Duke and I love about Andalusia. You have Roman influences, Islamic stylings and a Roman Catholic overlay. It’s a magical part of the world, where these three cultures blend together into architecture that can’t be found anywhere else but southern Spain. 

Case in point: Córdoba’s Great Mosque, known as the Mezquita, perpetually rising from its ashes like a phoenix over 10 centuries through a fascinating interplay of Roman, Islamic and Christian construction. 

“King Carlos I lamented his decision to allow the construction of the cathedral, saying, “They have taken something unique in all the world and destroyed it to build something commonplace.”

That’s a bit harsh.”

Parts of the massive structure’s exterior retain their Islamic architecture.

Abd ar-Rahman and the Start of the Mezquita

To understand Córdoba and the history of this amazing structure, we must travel to the Middle East and meet Abd ar-Rahman I, a member of the Umayyad dynasty in Damascus, Syria. Things aren’t going so well for the prince. His family was massacred by the Abbasids, rivals for Islamic rule, and Abd ar-Rahman fled, hiding out in the farthest corner of the Muslim world. That is, the south of Spain. 

He ended up in Córdoba. After wresting control of the city from the Visigoths, Abd ar-Rahman began eyeing the church of San Vicente, the largest in town. Not surprisingly, it had been been built upon the ruins of a Roman temple (you’ll notice a trend). Abd ar-Rahman purchased half of the church from the Christians to start, before eventually buying the rest. 

Then, in 786 CE, he tore down the church to construct his most important project: a massive cathedral mosque. 

The History of the Mezquita

The designers ran with those mesmerizing horseshoe arches, a style borrowed from the Visigoths, placing them atop recycled columns from the original Roman ruins. The distinctive red and white is a result of alternating brick and stone. The repetition of the arches was an attempt to evoke the infinite nature of Allah. I’d say they succeeded. 

“The aesthetics of the new Cordoban mosque, to which Muslims from far and wide throughout history would forever write odes, was typically Anadusian from the start: part adaptation of local, vernacular forms and part homage to Umayyad Syria, forever the source of hereditary legitimacy,” María Rosa Menocal writes in The Ornament of the World. 

“The Cordoba mosque continued to be built, and added to, for the next 200 years, until nearly the year 1000, but the characteristic look of the place, the horseshoe arches that sit piggybacked on each other, themselves dizzyingly doubled in alternations of red and white, were established from the start,” she continues.

Abd ar-Rahman II, great-grandson of his namesake (792-852), expanded the Great Mosque and added a new mihrab, a niche where Muslims face to pray. 

Then, Abd ar-Rahman III (891-961) enlarged the patio and built a new minaret, which stood 130 feet (40 meters) tall. 

All those red and white arches, designed to mimic infinity, are truly hypnotic.

His son, Al-Hakam (915-976), continued his father’s work — in fact, he’s responsible for the most impressive renovation of the space. He had new columns built, alternating pink and blue marble. Domes were added to let in light, while painted wood beams decorated the ceiling. The 11 naves were extended, and a larger qibla wall built (this is supposed to be the cue to facing Mecca, but more on that later). Oh, and there was a secret passage for the caliph to enter the mosque from his adjoining palace. 

Gorgeously painted wooden ceiling beams

At the end of the 10th century, Córdoba had become a bustling city. To accommodate the growing population, Almanzor (938-1002) made the courtyard bigger and added eight naves. These are the most austere of the bunch. Ultimately, the Mezquita could hold 40,000 worshippers. It was the largest mosque in the world at the time. 

It wasn’t just used for prayer, though; it was the center of Cordoban life. Judges made rulings near the mihrab. Teachers taught children under the arches. And traveling pilgrims were allowed to sleep there. 

Religious Reversal: From Mosque to Cathedral

In 1236, King Ferdinand III conquered Córdoba, returning the city to Christian rule. The mosque transitioned to the cathedral of Santa María, even as many Islamic elements endured. The Main Chapel is located under the skylight. 

King Henry II built the Royal Chapel to provide tombs for Castilian monarchs. This was done in the Mudéjar style, a delightful blend of Gothic and Islamic, using Muslim architects and carpenters. 

An area with pointed arches was built to give light and height for the choir as well as the church bigwigs. 

The structure remained largely the same until 1528, when King Carlos I gave permission to tear out the center of the mosque to build a proper cathedral, much to the dismay of many in Córdoba. Turns out he ended up agreeing with them. When the king visited, he lamented his decision, saying something along the lines of, “They have taken something unique in all the world and destroyed it to build something commonplace.” 

That might be a bit too harsh. This is still one impressive place of worship.

The choir stalls were built in the Baroque style of mahogany wood from Cuba. As in many Catholic churches, naves line the walls, containing small chapels. 

(FYI: Much of this history comes from a kid’s book we bought in town: La Mezquita de Córdoba by Manuel González Mestre, with fun illustrations by Jacobo Muñiz López.)

The Mihrab: Where Intricate Beauty Meets Spiritual Significance

While wandering the Mezquita, look for the mihrab. Among the monument’s ornate riches, none capture the cross-cultural transformation quite like the exquisite mihrab, located along the back wall on the right side. It’s considered the most sacred part of a mosque. 

Strangely enough, though, this qibla doesn’t actually indicate Mecca. Instead, it faces south. One theory is that it was a reference to the direction where Mecca would be from Abd ar-Rahman’s hometown of Damascus. Then again, it’s also thought that the streetscape didn’t allow for the qibla to face east as it should have, and instead was chosen to align with the Guadalquivir River.

When Córdoba was conquered by the Christians, they not only repurposed the mosque, they also recognized the mihrab’s beauty and spiritual importance — and actually preserved it! It’s a surprising moment where two faiths coexist within the same sacred space.

Intricate mosaics, geometric patterns and calligraphy intertwine to create a tapestry of colors and shapes that leaves visitors in awe. 

The Patio de los Naranjos: An Oasis of Tranquility

Chances are you’ll begin your exploration of the Mezquita in the Patio de los Naranjos, the Courtyard of the Orange Trees. For one thing, it’s where you line up to buy tickets. 

This tranquil oasis, with its fragrant blossoms and centuries of history, offers a contrast to the architectural wonders inside. And it’s not just orange trees — there are also olive trees, palms and cypresses. 

In its long history, this courtyard been a place for reflection, prayer and community gatherings. And there was a section where Muslims would perform their ablutions, or ritual cleansings, before entering the mosque. 

Visiting the Mezquita

Recognizing the Mezquita’s cultural and historical importance, UNESCO designated it a World Heritage Site in 1984. This status is a testament to the ongoing efforts to protect and preserve the architectural marvel, ensuring that future generations can continue to be inspired by its grandeur.

Pro tip: The early bird gets the arch. 

We went early in the morning to see the Mezquita before mass was held. It’s free, so you don’t need to bother with tickets. (If you don’t go at this time, be sure to get your tickets as soon as possible. They cost 13 euros. I think it’s a good idea to book a day in advance if you have the time, but most travel sites say you don’t need to worry about it selling out. Call me paranoid.)

We figured the pre-mass time was a good way to escape the massive tour groups that would invade the space later in the day. To do so, you don’t go through the Patio de los Naranjos as you normally would. You enter through the Puerta de Santa Catalina. The one downside is that you don’t have a lot of time to explore. Get there right at 8:30, cuz security guards will kick you out around 9:20 so mass can begin. 

This trick is considered the worst-kept secret in Córdoba, so keep in mind that word has gotten out. But it’s still supposed to be better than most other times. If you can’t make it early, or want more time, try booking the end of the day.

More Metamorphoses: Temple to Church to Mosque to Cathedral 

Like the ceaselessly repurposed structures within its walls, the Mezquita represents the fluid nature of Spain’s cultural and religious history. As both mosque and church, this house of worship symbolizes Andalusia’s legacy as a place where Ancient Rome, Islam and Catholicism converge. For over 10 centuries, the awe-inspiring Mezquita has shifted shapes and uses but has endured. That’s typical of this wondrous part of Spain. –Wally

Saints, Statues and Semana Santa: A Tour of Iglesia de Santiago Apóstol’s Treasures

The oldest church in Málaga has a Picasso connection and is home to legendary Holy Week statuary, including El Rico, who pardons prisoners, and El Cristo de Medinaceli, who grants wishes.  

This figure depicts the Immaculate Conception of Mary. She stands atop a crescent moon and the world. Her left foot crushes a serpent, symbolizing the original sin assigned to all humans since Adam and Eve—except, of course, to the pure Virgin. 

You could easily walk past the exterior of the Parroquia de Santiago Apóstol without realizing the wonders that lie within. The church, which is dedicated to Saint James the Apostle, is located on Calle Granada and was under restoration when Wally and I visited our friends Jo and José in Málaga, Spain in 2015. We strolled by it multiple times, completely unaware of its spectacular interior and ended up buying a few whimsical wire and black glass marble ants from a street artist who had set up shop on a mat across from it.

The church’s wooden doors feature viera, or scallop shells, the symbol of Saint James. 

Eight years later, we were back in Spain, and Jo and José suggested adding it to our itinerary. We’re fortunate to know some locals, and we’re never disappointed by what they share with us. Plus, Wally and I love visiting old Catholic churches. These places are not just architecturally stunning; they’re usually brimming with vivid devotional art. And it goes without saying that Spain takes this to a whole other level.

The pointed brick arch of the central doorway framed by tiles arranged in a geometric pattern is all that remains of the former mosque.

From Mosque to Gothic Church 

After digging around a bit, I found out that this particular church was the first and oldest of the four parishes commissioned in Málaga by the Catholic Monarchs, Isabella and Ferdinand II. In fact, it dates back to 1509. The structure fuses Isabelline Gothic (a late Gothic/early Renaissance style) with Mudéjar elements and was established on the site of a mosque during the early stages of the city’s Christian conquest. Remnants of the former mosque were incorporated and are visible in the façade, particularly in the central doorway, where an elegant pointed arch is framed by tiles arranged in a geometric pattern that reads as floral. This arch would later evolve into the distinctive Gothic rib vault. In keeping with Islamic tradition, a minaret was built adjacent to the mosque, which was converted into the church’s bell tower during the late 16th century.

A view of the ornate central nave, dome and altar. The carved central altarpiece holds a likeness of the church’s patron, Santiago Apóstol aka Saint James.

the Interior of the Church of Santiago 

Inside, the Gothic style reveals itself in the vaulted ceilings and chancel of the central nave, which comprises the sanctuary, altar, choir and main chapel. The late 18th century saw the addition of two more naves, embellished in the Baroque style. The handsomely carved altarpiece is fashioned from polychromed (painted in many colors) and gilded wood, and the central niche holds a realistic statue of its patron saint, Santiago Apóstol (Saint James).

A depiction of Mary as the Queen of Heaven

Legend has it that following the death of Christ, James traveled to Galicia in northern Spain to spread the word of Christianity. However, things took a dark turn upon his return to Jerusalem — he was beheaded under King Herod’s order, becoming the first disciple to be martyred.

Málaga local Picasso was christened in this baptismal font, located near the entrance of the church. 

Fun fact: Pablo Picasso was christened in this church on November 10, 1881, and his baptismal certificate is kept here. Although his family moved to A Coruña in the Galicia region of northwest Spain when the artist was 9 years old, he always considered himself a malagueño, that is, someone from Málaga. 

This diminutive likeness of the Virgin Mary, Nuestra Señora del Pilar (Our Lady of the Pillar), stands atop a small column. You can’t see it because it’s covered by the red and gold mantle. 

A Tour of the Art and Semana Santa Statues of Parroquia de Santiago Apóstol

Among the significant religious artworks that can be found in the church’s naves is the Virgen de las Animas (Virgin and the Souls) by Juan Niño de Guevara, a large oil painting depicting the Mary comforting souls condemned to Purgatory. According to popular tradition, the faithful offer prayers to the image and leave bottles filled with lamp oil to keep the flames of the glass votives burning in perpetuity for the souls doing penance before being able to enter the kingdom of Heaven.

This oil painting, Virgen de las Animas (Virgin and the Souls) by Juan Niño de Guevara depicts Mary seated on a throne of clouds, comforting souls condemned to Purgatory. 

Additionally, the statues of the Cofradía del Rico and Hermandad de la Sentencia religious brotherhoods are kept inside this church year-round, except during Semana Santa (Holy Week). That’s when they’re placed on massive tronos, quite literally thrones, weighing up to 2 tons and are carried through the streets of Málaga by penitents and members of their religious fraternity.

This nave holds the processional images of Jesús de la Sentencia (Jesus of the Judgement), María Santísima del Amor Doloroso (Holy Mary of Sorrowful Love) and San Juan Evangelista (Saint John the Evangelist) which belong to the religious brotherhood of the Hermandad de la Sentencia. 

There are the venerated mannequin-like processional figures of María Santísima del Amor Doloroso (Holy Mary of Sorrowful Love) and Jesús El Rico (Jesus the Rich). To impart a heightened sense of realism, glass was used for the eyes, hair for the eyelashes and ivory for the teeth. 

Jesús El Rico (Jesus the Rich) hides behind María Santísima del Amor Doloroso (Holy Mary of Sorrowful Love), which belong to the brotherhood of the Cofradía del Rico. El Rico pardons one prisoner each year.

The Ultimate Get Out of Jail Free Card 

El Rico has extended pardons as an act of grace every Holy Wednesday, a tradition that traces its roots back to 1759. The practice of extending a second chance to a prisoner originated during the plague epidemic that swept across Europe during the reign of Carlos III. 

It’s said that a riot erupted after inmates learned that Holy Week processions would be canceled due to contagion fears. In response to the news, prisoners mutinied, broke out of jail and carried the life-sized statue of Jesus through the streets of Málaga, praying for salvation from the plague. Rather than fleeing afterward, they chose to return to prison. Impressed by their act of piety, the king decided to grant the Cofradía del Rico brotherhood, the guardians of El Rico, the right to release one prisoner every year. To this day, El Rico symbolically performs this act.

On the first Friday of March, the venerated figure of El Cristo de Medinaceli is taken from his niche, redressed and placed upon a gilded platform. Devotees kiss his feet, leave three coins and make a wish for each — only one of which will be granted.

Make a Wish Foundation

If these treasures in this historic church aren’t enough to pique your interest, there’s one more notable devotional figure worth mentioning within the Iglesia de Santiago Apóstol: El Cristo de Medinaceli (Christ of Medinaceli). It received its name because the original was owned by the Duke of Medinaceli.

Every first Friday of March, devotees queue up outside the parish doors and wait their turn to kiss the statue’s feet. They also place three coins — they have to be of the same value — at his feet and make three different wishes. Be careful, though: Only one of your wishes will come true.

One of the most dramatic aspects of the Iglesia de Santiago Apóstol (and that’s saying something!) is the blue hue of this elaborate dome. 

This relief depicts a crowded take on the Last Supper. 

If you’re in the neighborhood, and you don’t stop by and admire the Semana Santa statues here, you’ll wish you had. –Duke

Iglesia de Santiago

Calle Granada, 78
29015 Málaga
España

 

Artistic Depictions of the Virgin Mary: The Surprising Origins of Marian Iconography

The enigmatic allure of the Virgin Mary: From divine purity to unsettling symbolism, we explore the captivating myths and enduring appeal of the original Madonna. 

The Virgin Mary takes many guises in art over the centuries, from Queen of Heaven to the Sorrowful Mother whose tears have miraculous properities.

In art, God is often portrayed as an ancient, white-bearded man in flowing robes, a benevolent figure who watches over humanity from on high. Jesus, meanwhile, is typically depicted in various key moments from his life, such as his birth, crucifixion and resurrection. He walks on water and performs other miracles and has his Last Supper. 

But the Virgin Mary is a complex and enigmatic figure who wears many guises. Often cloaked in modesty, she’s seen as a symbol of hope, love and sacrifice. She’s portrayed as the ultimate role model for Christian women, the daughter of God, the bride of her own son and a regal queen. Her story is a richly woven tapestry of myths and symbols, each thread imbued with meanings that have been interpreted in countless ways throughout history.

As we delve into the realm of religious art and symbolism, we find her as a fertility goddess known as the Black Madonna, along with a loving mother whose tears and breast milk have magical healing powers. Amid the varied representations through the centuries, one thing remains certain: Mary’s enduring appeal as a divine figure. 

Mary, Queen of Heaven by the Master of the Saint Lucy Legend, circa 1495

Maria Regina: Queen of Heaven

Mary, the paragon of purity, couldn’t be left to rot in the grave like a mere mortal. So, the early Church fathers devised a bold solution: They declared that she had been taken up to Heaven in an event known as the Assumption, where she now reigns as a celestial queen. 

Popes viewed the Virgin Mary as a powerful propaganda tool. With their ties to the Queen of Heaven, they could legitimize their authority on earth and cemented the strong tie between Mary and Catholicism, centered in Rome: “The more the papacy gained control of the city, the more veneration of the mother of the emperor in heaven, by whose right the Church ruled, increased,” explains Marina Warner in her 1976 book Alone of All Her Sex: The Myth and the Cult of the Virgin Mary. 

The Coronation of the Virgin by Diego Velázquez, 1636

John VII was the first pope to have himself painted in prostration at the feet of the Virgin, in the basilica of Santa Maria in Trastevere in Rome. 

Madonna della Clemenza icon from the church of Santa Maria in Trastevere in Rome, 8th century. It’s the first to show a pope, John VII, prostrating himself at her feet (though it’s hard to make out now).

The coronation of Mary was first depicted in the 12th century, from an apse mosaic at Santa Maria to niches of French cathedrals, and became a favorite theme of Christendom. Christ is shown crowning his mother, switching the moment of her triumph from the Incarnation (when she conceived the son of God) to the Assumption (when she was taken up to Heaven). 

Coronation of the Virgin by Fra Angelico, 1435

The imagery of a divine queen worked well to legitimize not only popes but royalty and its system of inequality as well. “For by projecting the hierarchy of the world onto heaven, that hierarchy — be it ecclesiastical or lay — appears to be ratified by divinely reflected approval; and the lessons of the Gospel about the poor inheriting the earth are wholly ignored,” Warner writes. 

“It would be difficult to concoct a greater perversion of the Sermon on the Mount [Christ’s ethical code, focusing on compassion, selflessness, etc.] than the sovereignty of Mary and its cult, which has been used over the centuries by different princes to stake out their spheres of influence in the temporal realm,” Warner continues, “to fly a flag for their ambitions like any Maoist poster or political broadcast; and equally difficult to imagine a greater distortion of Christ’s idealism than this identification of the rich and powerful with the good.”

The Coronation of the Virgin With Angels and Four Saints by Neri di Bicci, circa 1470

The Bride of Christ: Incest Is Best?

As shocking as it may seem, the Virgin Mary was, for a while, depicted as the bride of her own son, Jesus. 

How could this have come about? Warner suggests the influence of Middle Eastern mystery religions, which played up males forming unions with females. The Canaanite god Baal coupled with his sister, Anat. In Syria, the shepherd Tammuz became the lover of the sky goddess Ishtar. The Phrygian cult featured Cybele and Attis, who died castrated under a tree. And Egyptian mythology tells the tale of Osiris, the god of the dead, who was chopped into pieces and put back together by his sister-wife, Isis. 

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RELATED: A pictorial glossary of the so-called pagan gods of the Old Testament

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The nuptials of these divine beings mirrored the joining of earth and sky at the dawn of creation.

You wouldn’t marry your mother, would you — even if she was the Virgin Mary?!

“Thus marriage was the pivotal symbol on which turned the cosmology of most of the religions that pressed on Jewish society, jeopardizing its unique monotheism,” Warner writes. “It is a symptom of their struggle to maintain their distinctiveness that the Jews, while absorbing this pagan symbol, reversed the ranks of the celestial pair to make the bride God’s servant and possession, from whom he ferociously exacts absolute submission.”

From this foundation, Cyprian of Carthage, in the 3rd century, accused virgins who flirted of committing adultery against their true husband, Christ.  

And then, of course, there are nuns, whose consecration ceremony includes getting a ring that designates them as a bride of Christ. Talk about polygamy on a mass scale!

But it wasn’t really until 1153, when Bernard of Clairvaux gave multiple sermons on the Old Testament’s Song of Songs — “that most languorous and amorous of poems,” as Warner calls it. In one of these, Bernard preached, speaking of Christ and the Virgin Mary:

But surely will we not deem much happier those kisses which in blessed greeting she receives today from the mouth of him who sits on the right hand of the Father, when she ascends to the throne of glory, singing a nuptial hymn and saying: “Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth.”

Pagan influences aside, I’m puzzled as to how this incestuous idea ever caught on among Christians.

The Virgin and Child by Dirk Bouts, circa 1465

Maria Lactans: The Milk-Squirting Mary

While Mary was exempt from Eve’s punishment of bearing children in pain, there was one biological function allowed her: breastfeeding. “From her earliest images onwards, the mother of God has been represented as nursing her child,” Warner says. 

The Virgin Mary depicted with squirting breasts?! This is one iconography I’ve got to milk for all its worth.

Where did this idea come from? “The theme of the nursing Virgin, Maria Lactans, probably originated in Egypt, where the goddess Isis had been portrayed suckling the infant Horus for over a thousand years before Christ,” Warner explains. 

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RELATED: In the New Testament, Mary wasn’t mentioned as being a virgin. Find out why early Christians insisted upon Mary being pure.

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Madonna Nursing the Child (Maria Lactans) by Erasmus Quellinus the Younger, circa 1614

Part of this symbolism derives from a mother providing much-needed nourishment: “For milk was a crucial metaphor of the gift of life,” Warner continues. “Without it, a child had little or no chance of survival before the days of baby foods, and its almost miraculous appearance seemed as providential as the conception and birth of the child itself.”

And, not surprisingly, Mary’s milk was miraculous. A favorite medieval tale, including a version in French by Gautier de Coincy, tells how a faithful monk was dying of a putrid mouth filled with ulcers. He reproached the Madonna for neglecting him, and chastened, she appears at his bedside: 

With much sweetness and much delight,
From her sweet bosom she drew forth her breast, 
That is so sweet, so soft, so beautiful,
And placed it in his mouth, 
Gently touched him all about,
And sprinkled him with her sweet milk.

As Warner writes, “Needless to say, the monk was rendered whole again.”

According to a 14th century legend, Saint Bernard prayed before a statue of Mary. It came to life, and the Virgin placed her breast in Bernard’s mouth, nursing him as she did the baby Jesus.

The Madonna’s miracle milk became a nearly ubiquitous relic in Europe. “From the thirteenth century, phials in which her milk was preserved were venerated all over Christendom in shrines that attracted pilgrims by the thousands. Walsingham, Chartres, Genoa, Rome, Venice, Avignon, Padua, Aix-en-Provence, Toulon, Paris, Naples, all possessed the precious and efficacious substance,” Warner says.

John Calvin, the church reformer, had a scathing opinion about these claims. “There is no town so small, nor convent … so mean that it does not display some of the Virgin’s milk,” he wrote in his Treatise on Relics. “There is so much that if the holy Virgin had been a cow, or a wet nurse all her life she would have been hard put to it to yield such a great quantity.”

The idea of a breastfeeding mother of God waned in the Renaissance, when high-born women found it indecent to do the job themselves and outsourced the task to wetnurses. Plus, it was deemed indecorous to depict Mary with her breast exposed with the increasing idea that a woman’s body was shameful. Mary, with the Immaculate Conception, was born without original sin and therefore avoided Eve’s curse — and by the 16th century, that included being exempt from suckling the Christ child.

Madonna in Sorrow by Juan de Juni, 1571

Mater Dolorosa: The Sorrowful Mother

The caregiving image of Mary gave way to a mother mourning her dead son, what’s known as the Mater Dolorosa. The cult began in the 11th century, reaching full fruition in the 14th century in Italy, France, England, the Netherlands and Spain. The culmination of this iconography? Michelangelo’s La Pietà.

La Pietà by Michelangelo, 1499

Again, we have Ancient Egypt, and the surrounding region’s myths, to thank for this representation. The Egyptian goddess Isis sorrowfully wandered the land, collecting the pieces of her dismembered brother-husband, Osiris. When she finds his coffin, she caresses Osiris’ face and weeps. 

And she’s not the only weeping woman of the ancient Middle East. Dumuzi, the shepherd and “true son” of Sumerian myth, was sacrificed to the underworld, tortured by demons (much like Christ later, during his Passion and descent into Hell). The goddess Inanna, the Queen of Heaven, weeps for him.

It seems likely that Christians picked up this iconography — spurred on by the horrors of the Black Death, when the bubonic plague swept the continent, wiping out one-fifth of the entire population. “It aroused penitential fever in a way never seen before, and gave the image of the Mater Dolorosa weighty contemporary significance,” Warner points out. 

Madonna in Sorrow by Titian, 1554

Once again, Mary’s bodily fluids have healing properties. “The tears she sheds are charged with the magic of her precious, incorruptible, undying body and have the power to give life and make whole,” Warner explains. 

This cult has lasted to the present day. Many of us have heard stories of statues of the Virgin that miraculously weep. 

“Contemporary prudishness has tabooed the Virgin’s milk, but her tears have still escaped the category of forbidden symbols, and are collected as one of the most efficacious and holy relics of Christendom,” Warner says. “They course down her cheeks as a symbol of the purifying sacrifice of the Cross, which washes sinners of all stain and gives them new life, just as the tears of Inanna over Dumuzi fell on the parched Sumerian soil and quickened it into flower.” 

The Virgin of Greater Pain and Transfer of Great Power

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RELATED: Learn more shocking things about the Virgin Mary!

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The Black Madonna of Monserrat

The Black Madonna: Our Lady of Montserrat

Most Western depictions of Mary present her skin as lily-white, untouched by corruption, despite the fact that she is undeniably Middle Eastern. So it’s all the more surprising to see the emergence of the Black Madonna, a dark-skinned version that became popular among the medieval Benedictine monks in Montserrat, Spain. 

The monks saw the lushness of their mountain as a mirror of Mary. As such, her icon took on aspects of a fertility goddess. 

But in a bizarre twist (or perhaps not, given that Mary was a Jew from Judea), the Virgin had dark skin, which led to her being known as the Black Madonna. In fact, she’s known locally as La Moreneta, the Little Dark One. The depiction spread to other places of worship, among them Chartres, Orléans, Rome and Poland. 

The Black Madonna of Częstochowa, Poland

“The Church often explains their blackness in allegorical terms from the Song of Songs: ‘I am black, but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem’ (Song of Solomon 1:5),” Warner writes. “[B]ut another theory about their color is even more prosaic: that the smoke of votive candles for centuries has blackened the wood or the pigment, and when artists restored the images, they repainted the robes and jewels that clothe the Madonna and Child but out of awe left their faces black.”

The shrine at Montserrat is one of the longest continuous cults of Mary, especially popular with newly married couples. Here she has dominion over marriage, sex, pregnancy and childbirth — odd for a virgin but not for a fertility goddess. 

The Black Madonna at St. Mary’s Church in Gdansk, Poland

A gruesome legend illustrates Mary’s power. A woman gives birth to a lump of dead flesh. But when she prays to Our Lady of Montserrat, it begins to move and is transformed into a beautiful baby boy. 

Madonna della Misericordia by Benedetto Bonfigli, circa 1470

Madonna della Misericordia: Our Lady of Mercy

In a merging of her roles as mother and queen, a new depiction of Mary emerged in Umbria, Italy at the end of the 13th century. The Virgin was given a massive cloak which she wrapped over the poor souls gathered at her feet. Towering over them and offering protection, this was the Madonna della Misericordia, Our Lady of Mercy. 

Madonna of Mercy by Sano di Pietro, circa 1440s

After the desolation of the Black Death in the late 1340s, this iconography of Mary became the most popular. Monks and laypeople alike would pray to this aspect of the Virgin, asking her to keep them safe from harm. 

The Virgin of the Caves by Francisco de Zurbarán, circa 1655

This Mary is often preternaturally large — and her son, Christ, isn’t anywhere to be found, “suggesting that her mercy, directly given, could save sinners,” Warner writes. But that cuts God and Jesus out of the equation and makes the Virgin a goddess in her own right. 

So while Our Lady of Mercy spread throughout Europe in the 14th and 15th centuries, it was officially declared heterodox (not in accordance with the accepted Catholic doctrine) and banned by the Council of Trent in the mid-1500s.

Dormition of the Virgin fresco by Frangos Katelanos, 1548

Divine Dominion Over Death 

The Virgin Mary has worn many guises over the years, from a gentle breastfeeding mother to imperial queen to tutelary goddess. 

“If travelers from another planet were to enter churches, as far flung as the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, D.C., or the Catholic cathedral in Saigon, or the rococo phantasmagoria of New World churches, and see the Virgin’s image on the altar, it would be exceedingly difficult for them to understand that she was only an intercessor and not a divinity in her own right,” Warner points out. 

There are surely many factors that have led to Mary’s enduring appeal, starting with her co-opting of ancient mythology like the Egyptian goddess Isis. Many cultures find it fitting to worship the female spirit — something glaringly missing in the often-misogynistic views of Christianity. 

Detail from Assumption of Mary by Peter Paul Rubens, circa 1617

But Warner has a theory: “For although the Virgin is a healer, a midwife, a peacemaker, the protectress of virgins, and the patroness of monks and nuns in this world; although her polymorphous myth has myriad uses and functions for the living, it is the jurisdiction over her death accorded her in popular belief that gives her such widespread supremacy.”

She could be on to something. Think of the final words of the Hail Mary, the best-loved prayer in Catholicism: “Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.” –Wally

Why Did Christ Have to Be Born of the Virgin Mary?

Virgin births weren’t unusual in pagan times — just in the Judeo-Christian tradition. Here’s how sex got tangled up with the idea of sin, and by extension, chastity became the ultimate sign of virtue. 

Nativity, Birth of Jesus by Giotto, circa 1305

Early Christians needed their savior to have been born of a woman without sin, and that included the act of fornication. Greek myths could have influenced their theology.

Mary, the mother of Christ, is held up as one of a kind among humans for getting pregnant and giving birth without ever having sex. 

But believe it or not, so-called virgin births weren’t uncommon in the pagan world. Pythagorus, Plato and Alexander the Great were all said to have been born of virgins by the power of a holy spirit. 

Alexander the Great’s mom dreamed of a lightning bolt striking her vagina — and lo and behold! She became pregnant with the future king of Macedon. In antiquity, “virgin” births weren’t all that uncommon.

“Christians, aware of the antique pantheon, are still worried by the parallel between Christ’s story and the dozens of virgin births of classical mythology,” Maria Warner wrote in her 1976 work Alone of All Her Sex: The Myth and the Cult of the Virgin Mary.

So how exactly does one conceive without fornication? We can turn once again to paganism. In Greek mythology, the closest parallel seems to be when Zeus turned himself into a shower of gold and impregnated Danae, who gave birth to the hero Perseus.   

Danaë and the Golden Shower by Andrea Casali, circa 1750

The Greek myth of Zeus impregnating a woman in the form of a golden rain could have inspired the form the Holy Ghost took with the Virgin Mary.

The Greek god Zeus metamorphosed into a swan to couple with Leda. Did this bird imagery inspire the Holy Ghost’s representatoin as a dove?

Then again, the Holy Ghost is often depicted as a dove, and in another encounter, Zeus, that shapeshifting, lecherous cad, adopted the form a bird as well: He became a swan to seduce (or, perhaps, rape) Leda, mother of Helen of Troy, the twins Castor and Pollux, and another daughter, Clytemnestra.

The Annunciation by Fra Angelico, 1445

The shaft of light symbolizing the Holy Ghost isn’t too different from Danae’s shower of gold. Notice the contrast of the Virgin with Adam and Eve being expelled from the Garden of Eden to the left.

Connecting Sex With Sin

Of course in these cases, Zeus is copulating with the women. It’s an act of lust, and, at least for the god, one of pleasure. That’s in stark contrast to the Christian idea of Mary’s conception of Jesus: She remains a virgin, her maidenhead unbroken, and there’s no animal-like rutting. 

This was an essential part of the Christ story. The fathers of the Christian church connected sex with sin early on, taking their cue from Genesis and the Garden of Eden: Fornication becomes necessary for reproduction, and the pain of childbirth a curse that Eve, and all women to follow, must bear. 

Sex was seen as the ultimate sin. Saint Augustine wrote in City of God, in 426, that the passion aroused by lovemaking was sinful — though the holy act of propagation was not. In a similar vein, he added, “We ought not to condemn marriage because of the evil of lust, nor must we praise lust because of the good of marriage.”

“[I]n this battle between the flesh and the spirit, the female sex was firmly placed on the side of the flesh,” Warner wrote. “For as childbirth was woman’s special function, and its pangs the special penalty decreed by God after the Fall, and as the child she bore in her womb was stained by sin from the moment of its conception, the evils of sex were particularly identified with the female. Woman was womb and womb was evil.”

The Annunciation from the Grabower Altar in St. Peter’s in Hamburg, Germany, 1383

Saint Ephrem the Syrian wrote, “Perfectly God, he entered the womb through her ear.” The idea was that by conceiving via her ear, Mary remained a virgin.

The Virgin Mary: Not Your Typical (Sinful) Woman

Mary’s impregnation is, in contrast, a serene, holy act. It’s possibly tied to the very words of the Angel Gabriel when he announces her role in bringing forth the Savior. In ancient times, some people actually believed pregnancy could come about through the ear. (It gives a whole new meaning to Iggy Pop’s lyric “Of course I’ve had it in the ear before.”)

A sixth century hymn that’s still sung today goes:

The centuries marvel therefore 
that the angel bore the seed,
the virgin conceived through her ear, 
and believing in her heart, became fruitful.

The son of God chose to be born of a virgin, according to Augustine, because it was the only way to enter the world without sin. So, “Let us love chastity above all things,” he wrote, “for it was to show that this was pleasing to Him that Christ chose the modesty of a virgin womb.”

Painful births were one of God’s punishments for Eve eating the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. But Jesus’ mother couldn’t be connected with anything so sinful, so she was said to be a virgin, pure and intact.

Slandering the Virgin Mary

The early Christian church had to defend itself against rumors that painted Mary in a negative light. Jews and pagans in Alexandria, for example, were saying that Jesus wasn’t conceived by God — instead, he was the bastard child of an incestuous union of Mary and her brother. 

It doesn’t seem far-fetched nowadays to question a scientific impossibility — but at the dawn of Christianity, virgin births wouldn’t have been too big of a surprise. For early Christians, anything to do with female bodily functions was dirty and sinful. So they would have insisted their savior had to have come from an inviolate womb. And, despite evidence to the contrary, Mary became a virgin. –Wally

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Shocking Revelations About the Virgin Mary in the Bible

The Gospels barely mention Mary. They get her name wrong. They show Jesus being rude to her. And they make us question if she was even a virgin.

The worship of Mary has taken over Catholicism. But there’s a surprisingly scant amount of appearances by her in the New Testament — and those that are there can be problematic.

The figure of the Virgin Mary holds a place of honor in Christian theology and devotion, where she’s revered as the mother of Jesus and an embodiment of purity and divinity. And for Catholics, she’s essentially a goddess in her own right — and some would argue, perhaps more revered than Jesus himself.

However, a closer examination of the biblical texts reveals a series of astonishing revelations that challenge commonly held beliefs about Mary. In her book Alone of All Her Sex: The Myth and the Cult of the Virgin Mary, Marina Warner presents a compelling analysis of the Gospel accounts, shedding light on the limited mentions of Mary, discrepancies in her portrayal and even doubts about her virginity. Published in 1976, Warner’s research continues to shock almost 50 years later.

“The amount of historical information about the Virgin is negligible. Her birth, her death, her appearance, her age are never mentioned.

Of the four declared dogmas about the Virgin Mary — her divine motherhood, her virginity, her immaculate conception and her assumption into heaven — only the first can unequivocally be traced to Scripture.”

— Maria Warner, "Alone of All Her Sex"

The Annunciation by Paolo de Matteis, 1712

There’s a lot of beliefs about Mary that don’t come from the Bible. But one story that does is the Angel Gabriel telling her she’ll get pregnant by the Holy Spirit and will give birth to the Son of God.

1. Mary is hardly mentioned in the Gospels.

“The amount of historical information about the Virgin is negligible,” Warner writes. “Her birth, her death, her appearance, her age are never mentioned.” 

Warner explains that “the sum total of the Virgin’s appearances in the New Testament is startlingly small plunder on which to build the great riches of Mariology,” the part of Christian theology devoted to Mary. “Of the four declared dogmas about the Virgin Mary — her divine motherhood, her virginity, her immaculate conception and her assumption into heaven — only the first can unequivocally be traced to Scripture,” Warner continues.

The Immaculate Conception by Giovanni Battista Tiepolo, 1769

The idea that Mary was born without sin like the rest of us can’t be found anywhere in the New Testament.

In the Bible, the Angel Gabriel appears to Mary of Nazareth. At first she’s troubled and confused, but Gabriel prophesizes Jesus’ birth, to which Mary answers (“her most precious speech in Mariology,” Warner states), “How shall this be, seeing I know not a man?” (Luke 1:34). 

Gabriel explains, “The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow thee: therefore also that holy thing which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God” (Luke 1:38).

The Annunciation, from an illuminated manuscript created at Gladzor Monastery in Armenia by Toros Taronatsi in 1323

Strangely enough, though, the Gospel writers can’t even get her name right: She’s called Mariám 12 times and Maria seven times, according to Warner. 

Only Luke hits the major moments in what has become our understanding of the Virgin Mary. Even so, in Luke’s Gospel, Mary speaks a mere four times. 

In Matthew, she is silent. After the account of Jesus’ birth, Matthew mentions Mary only one more time.

Mark has a single mention of Mary (and it’s hardly flattering as you’ll see). 

John’s Gospel was written after the other three, “and it differs so considerably from them that for a time even its inclusion in the canon was at risk,” Warner writes. In it, the mother of Jesus is never mentioned by name, and it doesn’t repeat any of the incidents concerning her from the other Gospels. 

Christ Crucified With the Virgin, Saint John and Mary Magdalene by Anthony van Dyck, 1619

Jesus wanted to make sure Mary and John viewed each other as family — and then he was able to die.

She’s shown, perhaps, in the best light in John at the Crucifixion. As Jesus is dying on the cross, he sees his mother and “the disciple standing by, whom he loved” (i.e., John) and calls out, “Mother behold thy son!” and “Son behold thy mother!” John takes Mary into his home from that time on, the Gospel says. And Jesus, “knowing that all things were now accomplished,” drank vinegar and hyssop, and said, “It is finished” — “and he bowed his head, and gave up the ghost” (John 19:26-30). 

The Marriage at Cana by Marten de Vos, 1597

Jesus is snippy with Mary at the event where he turns water into wine — a biblical passage that makes many a Catholic cringe.

2. Jesus is surprisingly rude to his mother.

In Mark’s recounting, Jesus has been preaching and attracting crowds, but his friends decide he has lost his mind, and his charisma is the work of the Devil (Mark 3:21). They call upon Jesus’ mother and brethren for help. Jesus asks, “Who is my mother or my brethren?” Then, looking around at those who have gathered to hear him, he declares, “Behold my mother and my brethren! For whosever shall do the will of God, the same is my brother, and my sister, and my mother” (Mark 3: 34-5). “Thus Jesus rebuffs his earthly family to embrace the larger family of his spiritual fellowship,” Warner writes. 

Matthew and Luke feature the same story — but by the time Luke tells it, he’s defending Mary and the rest of the family, stating that they “could not come at him for the press” of the crowd (Luke 8:19). 

The episode is paralleled later in Luke. A woman in a crowd calls out, “Blessed is the womb that bare thee, and the paps which thou hast sucked.” Jesus states, “Yea rather, blessed are they that hear the word of God, and keep it” (Luke 11:7-8). “Mary is not necessarily excluded from Jesus’ reply, but it certainly rings harshly,” Warner writes, adding, “The Catholic Church has consistently overlooked the hard-heartedness in Jesus’ words.”

John tells of the miracle at Cana, one of two conversations between Jesus and his mother (John 2:3-5):

Mother: They have no wine.

Jesus: Woman, what have I to do with thee? Mine hour is not yet come.

Mother [to the servants]: Whatsoever he saith unto you, do it. 

Jesus goes on to turn water into wine. “Mary, apparently rebuffed quite brutally by her son, understands that he will nevertheless perform a miracle,” Warner explains. 

The Marriage of the Virgin by Giotto, 1306

The big question is: Did Joseph and Mary have sex after she gave birth? It’s the most likely explanation for Jesus’ brothers and sisters.

3. Her very virginity is at question.

For many Christians, it’s unfathomable to imagine that the Virgin Mary, whose moniker is tied to her purity, might be the result of a poor translation. “[A]s for her virginity,” Warner writes, “the evangelists, far from asserting it, raise a number of doubts.” 

Of all the Gospels, only Matthew makes a clear statement about the virgin birth. He says that Jesus was conceived by the power of the Holy Ghost before Mary and Joseph “came together” (Matthew 7:20). 

But Matthew’s writer was using the Greek Septuagint translation of the Bible, where the Hebrew word “almah,” meaning a young girl of marriageable age, became “parthenos” in Greek — a word that carries a strong connotation of virginity.

Catholics “hold (not as an article of faith, but as a cherished and ancient belief) that Mary was virgo intacta post partum, that by special privilege of God she, who was spared sex, was preserved also through childbirth in her full bodily integrity,” Warner explains. Which, one has to imagine, means her hymen was intact. 

But Matthew’s language seems to suggest that Mary and Joseph had sex after the birth of Jesus: “Then Joseph … took unto him his wife: and knew her not till she had brought forth her first born son” (Matthew 1:24-5). Yes, that’s “knew” in the biblical sense. It’s basically saying Joseph and Mary didn’t have sex until after Jesus was born. But they did eventually do so — Mary didn’t remain a virgin. 

The Presentation of Christ in the Temple by Hans Holbein the Elder, 1501

If Mary was so pure, why did she have to undergo a period of cleansing before she could present Jesus in the temple?

Also problematic: Mary gives birth to Jesus and enters the temple only after the time for her purification has elapsed. Under Mosaic law, a woman must be cleansed of the impurity incurred at childbirth. But why would that be necessary if Mary was, miraculously, still a virgin?

A 16th century Russian icon of James the Just, one of Jesus’ siblings

And then there’s the issue of Jesus’ siblings, mentioned in Matthew, Mark and Luke. Some early thinkers of the Greek church came up with a solution that has no proof in the Bible: Joseph was a widower, and those children were from an earlier marriage. 

The Birth of Christ by Meister von Hohenfurth, circa 1350

Rethinking the Virgin Mary

Warner’s groundbreaking work Alone of All Her Sex challenges conventional beliefs surrounding the Virgin Mary, drawing attention to the limited scriptural references, Jesus’ puzzlingly brusque behavior to his mother and the ambiguity surrounding her virginity. These shocking revelations prompt a reevaluation of deeply ingrained perceptions and invite further exploration of the complex figure at the heart of the Christian and Catholic faiths. –Wally

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CLICK HERE: When Did Jesus Become God? 5 Startling Findings in the Gospels

Pretty in Pink: Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel

Discover the strange history of this iconic church, the lively Jardín it overlooks and the riotous Festival of San Miguel. 

Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel, an icon of San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

“It’s just like the Disney Castle!” 

It’s a refrain you’ll hear often when you show pictures of the iconic church in San Miguel de Allende. Only, for my money, it’s cooler, cuz it’s pink — and I’d much rather be in Mexico than Disney World. 

“The church was designed by a self-taught indigenous stonemason named Zeferino Gutiérrez, who was inspired by a postcard of a Belgian church.

Apparently, Gutiérrez had never seen a cathedral in person, so he just winged it, scratching his design in the sand with a stick. ”

You’ll never tire of seeing the Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel (they really need to come up with a solid nickname). And the good news is, almost every time you head out to explore the charming colonial town, you’ll find yourself passing by the church and the main square, known locally as el Jardín. 

Behind the church is a quaint cobblestone street.

A Towering Legacy: Construction of San Miguel’s Most Famous Landmark

The exact date of construction is a matter of debate. There’s a convoluted history on the church’s website, stating that the first iteration was in 1564 — while others believe it wasn’t completed until the 1700s. The church has undergone so many renovations and additions over the years that it’s difficult to discern what the original structure looked like.

Perhaps all those renovations is why San Miguel Arcángel is a delightful mishmash of different architectural elements. The exterior features a Neo-Gothic façade that was added in the late 19th century, while the underlying structure is more Mexican Baroque. 

San Miguel de Allende is for lovers.

But let’s face it: The real stars of the show are the towering spires. They’re the stuff of legend, designed by a self-taught indigenous stonemason named Zeferino Gutiérrez, who was inspired by a postcard of a Belgian church. Apparently, Gutiérrez had never seen a cathedral in person, so he just winged it, scratching his design in the sand with a stick. 

Whatever the case, the end result is magical — he created those fantastical, otherworldly spires that look like they belong in a fairytale.

Part of its undeniable charm is the fact that it’s pink. The stones used in the Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel’s façade are cantera, a volcanic rock likely sourced from nearby quarries. Over time, the stones have taken on a more vibrant shade of pink, winning the hearts of visitors and locals alike.

Duke sits on the steps at the side of the church.

The church sort of leans to one side, which has led to various theories about how it came to be that way. Some say it was built askew on purpose to ward off evil spirits or to align with the position of the sun. Others attribute its slant to an earthquake or even the Devil himself. In reality, the tilt is likely due to the sandy soil San Miguel Arcángel was built on, which has shifted over time. This natural phenomenon is known as subsidence and is a common problem in many parts of the world.

In recent years, efforts have been made to stabilize the church and prevent further subsidence. However, the tilt remains a distinctive feature of the Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel and adds to its unique character and charm. Hey, it worked for that Tower of Pisa.

The Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel has seen some violence over the years.

The Cristero War and the Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel 

The San Miguel Arcángel parish has seen some real action over the years. For one thing, it was witness to the bloody Cristero War of the 1920s. This violent conflict pitted Catholic rebels against the anti-clerical government of Mexico, with both sides fighting tooth and nail for their beliefs. San Miguel Arcángel wasn’t spared from the brutality — bullets and bombs left the church’s walls scarred and pockmarked. In addition, some of the priests of San Miguel Arcángel were killed or exiled during the conflict. 

The church was later repaired, a testament to the resilience of the locals and a symbol of Mexican history and faith.

The interior of the Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel didn’t go entirely as planned.

A Work in Progress: The Interior of Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel 

While I’m utterly smitten with the whimsical exterior of the Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel, the interior ain’t too shabby, either. It also features a variety of architectural styles, including Gothic, Baroque and Neoclassical. The high ceilings and intricate details create a sense of grandeur and awe. The main altar is adorned with gold leaf and features a statue of San Miguel, aka Saint Michael the Archangel, the church’s namesake. 

Wally thinks this would be a great place to propose to someone.

Off to the side is a smaller chapel adorned with surprisingly modern murals that look Cubist. 

A chapel in the back corner of the church has a Cubist-esque mural showing indigenous Mexicans on one side and Catholic monks on the other.

As impressive as the interior is, though, it’s not quite finished — or what was first intended. In fact, the original plans for the interior were much more grandiose, but due to a lack of funding and resources, many of the ideas were never fully realized. 

On the side of the church is a statue of Fray Juan de San Miguel, who founded the city and was, in turn, named for Saint Michael the Archangel.

Saintly Swordsman: The Legend of San Miguel

So who exactly is the archangel the church is named for? 

Well, with a name like Miguel, which means “Who Is Like God,” it’s not surprising that he’s the commander of the heavenly host. He’s often depicted with a sword, ready to do battle against Satan and his minions. 

San Miguel is also the patron saint of police officers and soldiers. 

Plaza Allende, commonly known as the Jardín, is the bustling center of this charming colonial town.

The Heart of San Miguel: Exploring the Jardín, the City’s Vibrant Central Park

Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel overlooks the main town square, the Jardín, formally known as Plaza Allende. This lively square is the beating heart of San Miguel de Allende. If you’re looking to people-watch, hear a mariachi band, pose with the giant puppets called mojigangas or grab some street food (we had elotes one night that were delicious), this is the place to be. 

Dancing by the gazebo

A mariachi trumpeter

Mariachi bands entertain the crowds in the plaza in front of the church.

The Jardín is situated right in the center of town, which makes it a prime location for all sorts of festivities and events. It’s flanked by the church on one side, and rows of shops and restaurants on the others, so there’s always something to see and do.

Grab dinner at the elote stand.

Wally digs into his elote.

But the Jardín wasn’t always the lovely green space it is today. In fact, it used to be a marketplace where vendors sold everything from produce to livestock. It wasn’t until the early 20th century that the town decided to convert it into a park, complete with benches, a gazebo and trees that have been trimmed into circles.

If you can, time your trip to coincide with the Feast of San Miguel at the end of September.

Feast of San Miguel and the Crazy Castillos of the Town’s Biggest Fiesta

Duke and I happened to be in SMA during the Feast of San Miguel — but, as odd as it might sound, no one told us about it! Thank God we happened to be walking through the Jardín and noticed that they were erecting wooden scaffolds in front of the church. 

We looked at a flyer pasted to the wall that listed local events. Lo and behold, it was none other than the town’s biggest frickin’ festival! 

There was a café on the corner we’d been wanting to check out, so we popped in there and got some drinks while we waited for the festivities to begin. 

The week-long Festival of San Miguel, aka La Alborada, takes place around September 29, the saint’s feast day, usually culminating on the following weekend. 

The festival’s firework show was the most impressive we’ve ever seen — in part because of the gorgeous backdrop of the church spires.

And what a festival it was! A crowd gathered in front of Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel, and mariachis played their tunes. But the pièce de résistance were the castillos, those towers we had seen, rising up like giant matchstick sculptures in front of the church. 

Local craftsmen build these towering infernos, using skills and techniques that have been passed down through generations. It’s truly a sight to behold. 

The castillos are a wonder to behold.

When they’re lit, stand back — and let the sparks fly! The pyrotechnicians manning the castillos are like mad scientists, firing off bursts of firecrackers in all directions, painting the night sky above San Miguel Arcángel in a kaleidoscope of colors amid ear-splitting booms. The fireworks on the castillos emit high-pitched wails, spin like Catherine wheels, and form images and words. The whole spectacle was unlike anything we had seen before. 

Forget the drawn-out firework shows you see in the States; this was a machine-gun riot of color and explosions — the best we’ve ever seen. A huge grin was plastered on my face, and I’d turn to my neighbors, strangers united by sharing this marvel, and we’d shake our heads and laugh, unable to believe we were witnessing such magic. –Wally

Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel from el Mirador, overlooking the town of SMA

Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel

Principal s/n
Zona Centro
37700 San Miguel de Allende
Guanajuato
Mexico

 

Going for Baroque: The Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán Church in Oaxaca

From its fascinating history to its stunning Baroque architecture, the Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán Church is a must-see attraction in Oaxaca.

Like most churches in Mexico, the Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán in Oaxaca has got history, style, beauty, drama and a whole lot of swag. 

Holy History: The Evolution of Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán Church

Construction of the church began in 1572 and was completed over three decades later, in 1608. The building was designed by Fray Francisco de la Maza, a Spanish architect who was a member of the Dominican Order. 

“Inside the church, visitors are treated to a riot of color and decoration.

The walls and ceilings are covered in frescoes of the life of Christ and the history of the Dominican Order.”

Also par for the course: The church was built on the site of an existing temple that was destroyed during the Spanish conquest of the region. The original temple was dedicated to Cosijoeza, a Zapotec ruler from the late 15th century. He was a skilled warrior who fought against the Aztecs and other neighboring tribes to defend his people’s land and culture. He acted as shaman and healer as well, and was said to have possessed great spiritual power.

According to legend, Cosijoeza ascended to the heavens after his death, becoming a god who watches over the Zapotec people and protects them from harm.

During the colonial period, the Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán was built as a symbol of the power and wealth of the Catholic Church and the Spanish colonial authorities. The church was lavishly decorated with gold leaf, marble and other precious materials, and it served as a center of religious and cultural life in Oaxaca.

In the 19th century, the church played an important role in the Mexican War of Independence, serving as barracks for both royalist and insurgent forces at different times. After Mexico gained independence from Spain in 1821, the church continued to be the spiritual heart of Oaxaca, and it was eventually designated as a national monument in 1935.

Today, the Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán is one of the most visited tourist attractions in town, attracting thousands of visitors each year.

What’s in a Name? The Legacy of Santo Domingo de Guzmán

Saint Domingo de Guzmán was a Spanish priest who lived in the 12th and 13th centuries. He founded the Order of Preachers, also known as the Dominican Order, which was dedicated to preaching the gospel and combating heresy. Saint Domingo was known for his zeal and devotion to spreading the teachings of the Church.

There was no dramatic act of martyrdom for Santo Domingo, though: He died of a fever in Bologna, Italy in 1221, and was canonized by the Catholic Church in 1234.

Divine Design: The Intricate Baroque Style of Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán Church

Mexican churches tend not to be subtle. The Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán Church is a masterclass in Baroque architecture, a visual feast, with intricate details both inside and out. The exterior is adorned with elaborate carvings and statues, featuring saints, angels and other religious figures. The façade is made of Cantera verde, the local green volcanic stone, which glows a lovely yellow in the sunshine. Three domes top the templo — two blue and white checkered ones atop the entrance and a larger red tile one to the side.

When we saw this woman posing in front of the church, we had to get in on the action.

Inside the church, visitors are treated to a riot of color and decoration. The walls and ceilings are covered in frescoes and murals featuring scenes from the life of Christ and the history of the Dominican Order.

The altarpiece, which was carved from a single piece of cedar, is gilded with gold leaf and decorated with intricate carvings of saints, cherubs and other religious motifs.

To the right of the nave is the Capilla del Rosario, or Chapel of the Rosary, with its own stunning altarpiece.

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There’s a museum attached to the church. Hopefully it’s open when you visit!

Sacred Treasures: The Artifacts and Exhibits of the Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán Church Museum

There’s a museum in the massive edifice as well, to the left of the main church entrance. Unfortunately it was closed when we visited, but it holds an impressive (and surprisingly diverse) collection of religious art, including paintings, sculptures and tapestries, housed in the former monastery of the Dominican Order.

One of the highlights of the museum is the collection of pre-Hispanic artifacts, including pottery, sculptures, and other objects from the Zapotec and Mixtec cultures. You can also see a wide range of religious art from the colonial period. There’s even a collection of contemporary art, with rotating exhibits featuring the work of local and international artists, as well vintage photographs and cameras. 

As our friend Kevin, who lives in town, says, “There’s a parade or festival every day in Oaxaca.” This indigenous dance troupe performed in the plaza in front of Santo Domingo de Guzmán.

When you’re in Oaxaca de Juárez, you’ll inevitably find yourself passing by the massive Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán. Be sure to stop inside and admire the gilded glory — and plan a tour of the Oaxaca Botanical Garden (Jardín Etnobotánico de Oaxaca) on the grounds of the former Dominican monastery behind the church. –Wally

Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán

Calle Macedonio Alcalá s/n
Centro
68000 Oaxaca de Juárez
Oaxaca
Mexico

 

The Marvelous Murals of the Sanctuary of Atotonilco

No surprise that this UNESCO site has been dubbed the “Sistine Chapel of Mexico.” Pair it with La Gruta hot springs for an easy day trip from San Miguel de Allende. 

Most of the murals at Atotonilco depict scenes from Jesus’ life, including his resurrection (top) and the Last Supper (just below).

We knew we wanted to pair our trip to La Gruta Spa with a visit to the Sanctuary of Atotonilco (a tough one to pronounce, but try, “Ah-toe-toe-neel-ko”). 

The trouble was, we didn’t know how we would get there. To get to La Gruta, we had to bum a ride from someone who works at our first stop of the day, the quirky Chapel of Jimmy Ray, because we couldn’t get any cell service to call a cab or Uber.

Most of the murals at Atotonilco show scenes from the life of Christ, including the resurrection. The style is known as Mexican Folk Baroque.

I looked on Google Maps and determined that the church was only a 15-minute walk away. And once we got past the somewhat busy road that runs in front of the hot springs complex along a highway, we were able to walk on a peaceful cobblestone sidewalk. In fact, we started to see signs indicating that this is a pilgrimage route. So we followed them along a quiet road, Calle Principal, through a canopy of trees, and into a small village, where the church of Atotonilco can be found amid a few businesses and market stalls. 

Almost every inch of the walls and ceilings are covered in murals that date back to the mid-1700s.

“Pilgrims complete their journeys on their knees, wear hair shirts, tie cacti to their chests and wear crowns of thorns.

Atotonilco has also become a hotspot for flagellants — religious devotees who whip themselves to mimic the pain Jesus experienced en route to his crucifixion.”

The façade isn’t much — the wonders lie within.

A statue of Don Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla, a Catholic priest who, while waving a banner of the Virgin of Guadalupe taken from the Sanctuary of Atotonilco, delivered an impassioned speech for the people to break the yoke of Spanish oppression — and launched the Mexican War of Independence

From the — dare I say — bland exterior, you’d never guess at the gorgeous artwork inside. The façade consists of white walls devoid of decorations, aside from a window here and there. The wall around the church makes it feel like it’s more of a fortress than a sanctuary.

The main church was closed off when we visited — and we were surprised to see that it had plastic chairs instead of pews.

When we went, there was a crowd of tourists, mostly from Mexico, all pressing into the small space. For some reason, the church itself was roped off, with pink and purple plastic chairs in lieu of pews, and the altar visible in the distance. 

The frescoes were painted over three decades by a local artist, Miguel Antonio Martínez de Pocasangre.

There are supposedly quite a few chapels and niches inside the structure, but we were only able to go into the Capilla del Santo Sepulcro, or the Chapel of the Holy Burial — for a small fee. A couple of dioramas depict Jesus’ death on the cross. But it’s the intricate, gorgeous paintings, created by a local artist, Miguel Antonio Martínez de Pocasangre, that prompted UNESCO to declare this a World Heritage Site in 2008.

John the Baptist baptizes his cousin Jesus in the Jordan River in this mural at Atotonilco.

Judas, shown with a demon straddling his back, betrays Jesus for 30 pieces of silver, while a dog barks at him.

Most of the murals at Atotonilco show the life of Christ — though at least one is from the Old Testament of the Burning Bush talking to Moses.

The frescoes cover the main events of Christ’s life — his baptism by John the Baptist, the Last Supper, Judas’ betrayal, the walk to his crucifixion, his resurrection outside his tomb — though I did spot at least one Old Testament story as well: Moses and the Burning Bush. And there are words everywhere — even long passages of text. The walls are a Bible come to life. 

A holy water font surrounded by de Pocasangre’s murals

An indigenous ruler represents the Americas near the entrance of the church.

The walls of the sanctuary are like a book come to life — there are entire paragraphs in Spanish throughout.

The color palette is minimal — mostly salmon and tan, with some blue, brown, gold and bits of green acting as leaves on the curlicue motif, all set against the white walls of the church. 

A local priest, Father Neri, had a dream where Jesus told him to build a church. Neri did so, founding el Santuario de Atotonilco.

A Dream Come True

Atotonilco means Place of the Hot Waters in the local indigenous tongue. Father Luis Felipe Neri de Alaro had been preaching in the nearby town of Dolores but had fallen ill and decided to check out the curative powers of the thermal springs. 

While dozing under a mesquite tree one day, Father Neri had a dream in which Jesus wore the crown of thorns and carried the cross. Christ said that he wanted the spot where the priest was napping to become a center of penitence and prayer. Neri awoke, filled with divine inspiration, and did just that, founding el Santuario de Atotonilco in 1740. Another possible factor in determining to build the church here: The site was used in fornication rites among the indigenous peoples of the area, and Neri wanted to stop this practice.

Construction continued over the next 36 years. Neri commissioned de Pocasangre to paint the now-famous murals. The artist’s style is known as Mexican Folk Baroque — a blending of local traditions and the ornate flourishes of Flemish masters. 

The statue of el Señor de la Columna shows Jesus with a bloody back from being whipped. It’s paraded through town in a procession held the week before Easter.

Hair Shirts, Crowns of Thorns and Flagellation 

Meanwhile, Neri wanted to honor Christ’s wish in the dream he had — namely, that the sanctuary not just be a place of prayer but one of penitence as well. And Neri’s view of this was of a gruesome, physical variety. 

A symbol of flagellants is Christ tied to a column being whipped, as seen at the top of the image.

From the church’s origin, it has been a place of pilgrimage, with several weeks each year devoted to rites of penitence, drawing up to 5,000 pilgrims in a single week and 100,000 a year. The attached building consists of dormitories and dining halls to house the influx of pilgrims. 

Behind the church are dormitories and dining halls for the 100,000 pilgrims who visit each year.

And many of these pilgrims are hardcore. They complete their journeys on their knees, wear hair shirts (garments made of rough, uncomfortable cloth), tie spiked nopal cacti to their chests and wear their own crowns of thorns. Atotonilco has also become a hotspot for flagellants — religious devotees who whip themselves to mimic the pain Jesus experienced en route to his crucifixion. 

It would’ve been interesting, to say the least, to have been in the village during one of the times when the flagellants descended upon it. But, alas, the town was quite sleepy when we visited.

Looking back at the main entrance to the Sanctuary of Atotonilco

In 1994, the frescoes got a refresh — by the same team that worked on restoring the Sistine Chapel in Vatican City.

The sanctuary, with its numerous murals and frescoes, has been declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Not surprisingly, after 200 years or so, the frescoes had faded. In fact, in 1994, the World Monuments Fund named Atotonilco one of the world’s 100 Most Endangered Monuments, which inspired a major restoration project that same year. The church was in good hands: Some of the team that had worked to restore the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican City helped breathe new life into these frescoes. In addition, the walls were cleaned, the foundations reinforced and a new drainage system installed.

In the Capilla del Santo Sepulcro, or the Chapel of the Holy Burial, there are scenes of Jesus appearing after his resurrection.

Jesus shows off his stigmata to prove that he was crucified and yet rose from the dead.

Duke and I did our best to snap some photos and move through the crowd, though the front of the chapel was a popular spot for family photos among the locals. 

The only area open for tourists when we visited was a side chapel that showed Christ on the cross — a popular spot for family photos.

Another diorama, this one to the right of the main altar, shows Jesus being taken down from the cross.

A statue of Joseph with baby Jesus on his shoulder, while behind him Veronica shows the veil she used to wipe Christ’s face while he was en route to Calvary to be crucified.

After about half an hour, we decided to head back. We lucked out and saw a taxi passing by as we emerged from the sanctuary. We waved it down and caught a ride back to San Miguel de Allende for a reasonable rate. –Wally

Follow the pilgrimage signs to reach the impressive Sanctuary of Atotonilco.

Santuario de Jesús de Nazareno de Atotonilco

Calle Principal s/n
37700 Guanajuato
México

 

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Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel, Mexico City

A tour of this Colonial Baroque Catholic church built for the Discalced Carmelites in one of CDMX’s most charming neighborhoods.

Wally’s a bit obsessed with the domes of Nuestra Señora del Carmen in San Ángel in Mexico City.

Those domes! Those wondrous brightly tiled domes! I didn’t want to stop looking at them. There was something captivating about their faded glory. 

We spotted them in our Uber en route to el Bazaar Sábado, the Saturday Market in the charming CDMX colonia (neighborhood) of San Ángel. 

“Nuestra Señora del Carmen was built for the strangely named order of Discalced Carmelites (known colloquially as Barefoot Carmelites for their tendency to forgo footwear). ”

The church was founded for the order of Discalced Carmelites (aka the Barefoot Carmelites).

So, after we finished shopping at the market (and being told we couldn’t drink our beers while walking through the square outside), Duke and I knew we had to explore the church at the base of the hill. And thankfully, unlike in the States, we’ve found churches in Mexico to be unlocked any time we’ve wanted to go in. 

The church is designed in the Baroque Colonial style — with a plain façade and an ornate gilded altarpiece.

The Discalced Carmelites: Barefoot but Not Pregnant 

Design and construction of Nuestra Señora del Carmen was overseen by Fray Andrés de San Miguel between 1615 and 1626 for the strangely named order of Discalced Carmelites (known colloquially as Barefoot Carmelites for their tendency to forgo footwear). The order was established in 1562 by Saint Teresa of Avila, an epileptic Roman Catholic nun. 

The Barefoot Carmelite nuns stayed in their cloisters, “above all to lead a life of unceasing prayer in silence and solitude,” according to their official website. 

There’s more to the Carmen Complex than the church — including mummies!

El Carmen Complex

We weren’t able to wander the entire grounds, which includes a former convent and monastery that’s now a museum (complete with mummies!). 

The property extended quite far, and the scenic orchards are part of what attracted the aristocracy to make the neighborhood its home — giving birth to the colonia of San Ángel. 

The complex was taken over by the government after the War of Reform, which was fought between the Liberals and Conservatives from 1857 and 1860. The lefties won and subsequently greatly diminished the power of the Catholic Church, stripping it of most of its property. The local school was shut down and was used by the town council. Parts of the Carmelite grounds became a prison and barracks. 

The church, also known as the Templo del Carmen de San Ángel, is in the Colonial Baroque style — somehow austere in parts, such as the façade, and yet over-the-top ornate in others (that altarpiece!). 

The Baroque movement was all about drama — rounded edges and shimmering gold create a dizzying effect.

We spent some time exploring the church and all of its offshoot chapels, trying to be respectful of those praying within. Heavens knows we’ll be back to admire those beautiful domes — and to see the creepy mummies, of course. –Wally

Nuestra Señora del Carmen (Templo del Carmen de San Ángel)

Avenida Revolución s/n
San Ángel
Álvaro Obregón
01000 Ciudad de México
CDMX
México