Todos Santos in Rural Tlaxcala: A Syncretic, Expressive, and Symbolic Analysis of the Cult of the Dead [Course Book ed.] 9781400859252

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Todos Santos in Rural Tlaxcala

Todos Santos in Rural Tlaxcala A SYNCRETIC, EXPRESSIVE, AND S Y M B O L I C A N A L Y S I S O F T H E C U L T O F THE D E A D

Hugo G. Nutini

PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS

Copyright O 1988 by Princeton University Press Published by Princeton University Press, 41 William Street, Princeton, New Jersey 08540 In the United Kingdom: Princeton University Press, Guildford, Surrey ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data will be found on the last printed page of this book ISBN0-691-07755-X Publication of this book has been aided by the Whitney Darrow Fund of Princeton University Press This book has been composed in Linotron Sabon and Cartier Clothbound editions of Princeton University Press books are printed on acid-free paper, and binding materials are chosen for strength and durability. Paperbacks, although satisfactory for personal collections, are not usually suitable for library rebinding Printed in the United States of America by Princeton University Press Princeton, New Jersey

CONTENTS

List of Illustrations

vii

Preface

ix

Introduction

3

i. Syncretic Background of Todos Santos: The SpanishCatholic Component

38

2. Syncretic Background of the Cult of the Dead: The Pre-Hispanic Component

53

3. The Syncretic Transformation of Todos Santos: Structure and Process

77

4. Traditional Structure and the Ritual and Propitiatory Specialization of the Cult of the Dead

114

5. The Celebration of Todos Santos: From All Saints Day to the Octava of All Souls Day

144

6. Offerings to the Dead and the Household Altar

169

7. Physical Forms and Symbolic Meanings of the Ofrenda

197

8. The Decoration of the Graves in the Cemetery: Expressive Display and Symbolic Meaning 9. Public Aspects and Sociological Implications of the Cult of the Dead

236 275

10. The Ideology and Belief System of the Cult of the Dead

301

11. Provenance and Amalgamation of Elements in the Syncretic Process

343

12. The Transformation of the Cult of the Dead since i960

359

13. The Expressive Approach

377

Conclusions

398

Notes

417

Glossary

436

References

445

Index

455 ν

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Maps i. Administrative divisions of the State of Tlaxcala. 2. Highway and road network. Photographs (facing page 208) San Francisco Tetlanohca: Baroque Ofrenda San Esteban Tizatldn: Acculturated Ofrenda San Juan Totolac: Simple Sculpted Double Grave San Francisco Tepeyango: Simple Tiled Grave San Juan Totolac: Simple Sculpted Grave San Juan Totolac: Elaborate Sculpted Grave San Nicolas Panotla: Simple Sculpted Double Grave Santa Maria Acxotla del Monte: Decorated Atrium

VIl

PREFACE

This is a book about culture loss and decay. Although more than half of its chapters describe and analyze the traditional cult of the dead as it existed in most of rural Tlaxcala a generation ago, it is nonetheless a work of salvage ethnography. In the relatively short period of twentyfive years, the configuration of the institution, especially its physical manifestation and ritual and ceremonial discharge, has changed almost beyond recognition. From a well-integrated, smoothly functioning, and exquisitely expressed ensemble, the cult of the dead has become a disorganized, marginally discharged institution within the also changing socioreligious system. For reasons that I cannot quite understand, the cult of the dead after 1980 became a symbol of the serious transformation that the sociocultural system of the region was undergoing, a symbol of changes that, in my view, would not necessarily result in a more adjusted and contented polity. Perhaps my own culture loss reflects an admittedly rather conservative view of society. I say this because it may have occasionally clouded my scientific objectivity. This was a difficult book to write, for at almost every turn I had to wrestle with my personal beliefs and notions of an orderly and well-adjusted society and what the supposedly objective facts warranted. As the writing of the book progressed, I even had doubts about the objectivity of the facts themselves and wondered whether they did not reflect my own underlying ideology. I believe, however, that on the whole I managed to maintain my scientific objectivity, despite an occasional personal or idiosyncratic description or explanation. At any rate, I do not think that I am more guilty of subjectivity than most so-called engagi social scientists have been during the past generation. Indeed, the subjective judgments that the reader will find in this monograph are innocuous when compared with some of those made by the committed ideologues of our discipline. Having put my cards on the table, I ask the readers' forgiveness for any lapses into subjectivity or personal opinions that they may find offensive in this monograph. In the prefaces of four previous monographs on rural Tlaxcala (Nutini 1968; Nutini and Isaac 1974; Nutini and Bell 1980; Nutini 1984), I expressed my gratitude to the many individuals and institutions who helped make these works possible. That gratitude remains as warm today. For the generous financial support that enabled me to gather the ethnographical and ethnohistorical data on which this book is based, I IX

PREFACE

would like to thank the Social Science Research Council, the National Science Foundation, the Wenner-Gren Foundation for Anthropological Research, the American Philosophical Society, the Pittsburgh Founda­ tion, the University of Pittsburgh Center for International Studies, and the University of Pittsburgh Humanities Research Fund. Without their assistance, I could have completed neither the specific studies on kin­ ship and ritual kinship nor the more general comparative work on Tlaxcala as exemplified by this monograph. What also remains true today is that it would be impossible to single out every individual or institution who, in one way or another, helped in the writing of this book and in the fieldwork and archival research on which it is based, but I would like to express my appreciation to those who made the most significant contributions: To the Instituto Nacional de Antropologia e Historia generally, and to its former direc­ tors, the late Dr. Eusebio Davalos Hurtado, Dr. Ignacio Bernal y Garcia Pimentel, and Dr. Guillermo Bonfil Batalla particularly, I am grateful for administrative support. To the authorities of the state of Tlaxcala from 1959 to 1982, and particularly to its former governors Licenciado Don Joaquin Cisneros Molina, Licenciado Don Anselmo Cervantes Herrera, the late General Don Antonio Bonilla Vasquez, Dr. Don Lu­ ciano Huerta Sanchez, and the late Licenciado Don Emilio Sanchez Piedras, I am grateful for administrative and material support. To the bishop of the diocese of Tlaxcala, Dr. Don Luis Munive y Escobar, I am greatly indebted not only for administrative support but also for the many ways in which he facilitated my research in the local parochial archives and helped to create good will among his parish priests and the local religious hierarchies. To the countless municipal authorities of the Tlaxcalan communities where I have worked during the past genera­ tion, I am grateful for their openness and their willingness to help and for the time and effort they devoted to establishing the proper condi­ tions for fieldwork. I am intellectually and professionally indebted to Thomas S. Schorr, Doren L. Slade, Lisa Moskowitz, Vinigi L. Grottanelli, Maria Teresa Cervantes, Douglas R. White, Lilyan Brudner-White, Harol Hoffman, Terrence S. Kaufman, Lola R. Ross, Barry L. Isaac, Lee D. Sailer, Susan McGeorge, William Smole, James L. Watson, and Rubie Watson, who either read parts of the text, made constructive criticisms, and sug­ gested changes in style, presentation, and organization, or discussed with me theoretical or methodological matters. To John M. Roberts, I owe many ideas concerning the expressive underpinnings of the cult of the dead; he has for many years been an invaluable source of inspira­ tion concerning the quantitative analysis of data and the expressive χ

PREFACE

components of sociocultural systems. More than any other anthropologist, he has influenced my mature analytical development, and for this I shall always be grateful to him. To Pedro Carrasco, I am particularly grateful for his thoughts on the pre-Hispanic nature of the cult of the dead and for his suggestion that the institution in Mesoamerica has not only Spanish Catholic and native polytheistic elements but certain universal components as well. L. Keith Brown read the entire manuscript and offered many insightful comments and suggestions. For many years, Keith has read the manuscripts of my most important publications, and his creative criticisms have led to improved works. His generous, always available help is most gratefully acknowledged. I am very grateful to Timothy D. Murphy for several suggestions concerning the implications of the present monograph for the conceptualization of Mesoamerican religion. His perceptive notions on the syncretic content and structural position of religion in community culture and society are incorporated into the conclusions. Since 1968, my wife Jean Forbes Nutini, has been my constant companion in the field. Her outstanding ability and sensitivity as a fieldworker has contributed greatly to the quality of the data not only of this monograph but of those of the two studies of ritual kinship. She has also been a receptive sounding board for my ideas, and her own field experience in Tlaxcala has been of immeasurable help to my substantive descriptions and theoretical interpretations. Her ever faithful and selfless support has been the single most important factor that has allowed me to pursue an unbroken career of fieldwork and research. There are no words with which I can express the gratitude that I feel toward my wife for having blessed me with the ideal matrimonial arrangement for an anthropologist. I want also to express my gratitude for the generosity and availability of my chief informants in the approximately forty rural Tlaxcalan communities in which I collected information on the cult of the dead and associated social and religious phenomena. I owe a special debt to the people of Santa Maria Belen Azitzimititlan, Santa Maria Atlihuetzian, San Bernardino Contla, San Bartolome Cuahuixmatla, San Antonio Coaxomulco, San Felipe Cuauhtenco, San Nicolas Panotla, San Francisco Tepeyango, San Francisco Tetlanohca, San Esteban Tizatlan, San Juan Totolac, and San Miguel Xaltipac, where most of the data for this study were gathered, for the friendliness and warmth with which they received my inquiries, for taking my wife, my assistants, and myself into their households, and for making us participants in their social and religious lives in the fullest sense of the word. But I owe my greatest debt to the more than 130 ritual kinsmen (compadres and comadres) Xl

PREFACE

that my wife and I have contracted over the past generation. These ritual kinsmen and their nuclear and extended families in seven communities were the most effective network of informants in the process of gathering the ethnographic data on which this monograph is based. Finally, I am especially grateful to two of my compadres, the noted Tlaxcalan artist Desiderio H. Xochitiotzin and his wife, Lilia Ortega de Xochitiotzin. Throughout my entire Tlaxcalan experience, Desiderio Xochitiotzin has been a most valuable contact in my interpersonal relationships at all levels of Tlaxcalan society and a rich source of ideas and information about ethnographic details and historical sources. For the present monograph, he contributed architectural interpretations, clarified descriptions of tomb decorations and the display of offerings to the dead, and was instrumental in elucidating several pre-Hispanic elements of the cult of the dead. Lilia Xochitiotzin was equally helpful in describing the making of many offerings to the dead and the ingredients that went into their preparation. My research in the states of Tlaxcala and Puebla began in June 1959. During that first summer, I conducted an ethnographic survey of the Nahuatl-speaking people in the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley and the Sierra de Puebla, and I have continued to do fieldwork and research in these two regions of the central Mexican highlands ever since. The present monograph is the fifth in a series of eight, all of which, I hope, will see the light of print within the decade. During the celebration of the feast of All Saints Day and All Souls Day in i960,1 photographed, with the assistance of Desiderio Xochitiotzin, the household offerings to the dead and the decoration and arrangement of the tombs in the cemeteries of a sample of twelve rural Tlaxcalan communities. This photographic record consists of nearly 400 color slides of the various aspects and activities of the All Saints Day-All Souls Day celebration. In retrospect, it has proven to be an invaluable record of an ethnographic domain whose aesthetic excellence and expressive richness are no longer part of rural Tlaxcalan life. I do not remember what compelled me to undertake the project; I can only say that, even after so brief an exposure to the culture of the region, the attraction of the pre-Hispanic and the syncretic must have already been strong. During the following year, and for six consecutive fieldwork seasons (May to September) beginning in 1963,1 collected the bulk of the data for the present and two forthcoming monographs on the folk religion and anthropomorphic supernaturalism of rural Tlaxcala. As early as 1965, the rapid pace at which sociocultural change was proceeding in the region had already become apparent. Since then, I have largely regarded my work in rural Tlaxcala as salvage ethnograXIl

PREFACE

phy. For nearly twenty years, I have striven for three main objectives: the reconstruction of rural Tlaxcalan culture and society from the last two decades of the nineteenth century until i960 through oral history (at least twenty informants were between 90 and 95 years old between i960 and 1965) and the use of local (state) printed sources; the func­ tional description and analysis of most domains of social organization, religion, and pagan supernaturalism as they could still be observed in several communities until the late 1960s; and the isolation and struc­ tural and ideological articulation of most circumscribed contexts which appear to contain pre-Hispanic or pagan elements. The strategy has paid off, for the changes, especially since 1976, have accelerated tremendously, and traditional and transitional communi­ ties have been transformed into secular, nationally oriented communi­ ties almost overnight. But the process of individual and communal sec­ ularization in rural Tlaxcala has proceeded at varying rates. Thus, there are still three or four communities in which it is possible to ob­ serve the functioning social structure and the belief system of tradi­ tional communities as they were in the late 19 5 os. This differential pace of sociocultural change has been valuable for the tasks that I have as­ signed myself, but the researcher in rural Tlaxcala even today (1985) should be aware of another dimension that is important to conceptual­ ize in the proper assessment of this transformation. The ideology and belief system (the superstructure) and the structural system in opera­ tion (the infrastructure) are never synchronized; rather, the latter al­ ways changes faster than the former. Or, to put it differently, there is always a feed-back effect in the relationship of efficacy that obtains be­ tween ideology and structure. Thus, sociocultural change must ulti­ mately be regarded as the emergence of a new ideology, or imago tnundi, whose measurable entities are specific structural elements and behaviors. This study will present several examples of this conception of change and the latent, delayed efficacy of ideology in a situation of rapid sociocultural change. Although in the intervening years, I had been sporadically engaged in the collection of data on several aspects of magic and religion, it was not until 19 8 ζ that I decided to investigate systematically what had happened to that part of the cult of the dead centered on the All Saints Day-All Souls Day celebration on November 1 and 2. I invited anthro­ pologist Thomas S. Schorr (an expert on the visual dimensions of our discipline) to photograph the decoration of the tombs in the cemetery during the celebration that year. I decided not to do the same for the offerings to the dead in the household on any large scale, for I already knew that that aspect of the celebration had changed almost beyond XIlI

PREFACE

recognition in most communities since i960. Thus, aside from photographing a few home offerings, we concentrated on the tombs in the cemeteries of five of the twelve communities that I had originally photographed in i960. Indeed we photographed many of the same tombs, several of those of old informants, and more than a few people remembered the occasion twenty-two years earlier when artist Xochitiotzin and I had undertaken the same task. The comparison of the two sets of slides revealed that, while many individual tombs had changed drastically, the overall appearance of cemeteries had not changed very much, and one could still see an occasional tomb that reflected the traditional excellence of nearly a generation before. But gone were the exactness of execution and expressive creativity of design. Gaudiness and to some extent vulgarity had replaced the classical, if somewhat baroque, beauty of individual tombs and the symmetrical and serene appearance of the cemetery as a whole. This was a deeply dissatisfying experience, personally and intellectually, but it also gave me the impetus to write this monograph quickly, and it provided the theme around which to organize the corpus of data that I had gathered throughout the years. In writing this book, I have exorcised the demon that had led me to believe that there are certain constants in life and culture that never change. Inasmuch as we expect to present the visual record as a separate publication drawing some methodological conclusions concerning the use of photography for the study of change (Nutini and Schorr, forthcoming), I will say no more concerning the subject, except to mention that I have used the slides for the descriptions and analysis presented in chapters 6, 7, and 8, and some of them are reproduced there. This book is concerned with the cult of the dead, one of the important components of local folk religion in Mesoamerican Indian and Mestizo communities and to some extent also part of the national Catholicism of Mexico and Guatemala. Indeed, in various forms and degrees of intensity, the cult of the dead is a functional aspect of community religion in many nations of Latin America, though it probably exhibits its highest degree of expression in the countries comprising Nuclear America. The importance of the cult of the dead in Mesoamerica is attested to in many monographic publications in which at least brief reference is made to it as an aspect of the local folk religion. But the cult of the dead has not been described or analyzed in depth, nor has its position been established within the context of folk Catholicism. Thus, the principal aim of this study is to present for the first time a comprehensive description of the cult of the dead as it affects an entire region. Beginning with the syncretic origin of the cult and its historical development, the study proceeds to the transformation that the comXlV

PREFACE

plex has undergone during the first part of the twentieth century and it defines a baseline for the subsequent ethnographic description and analysis. Although the first five chapters of this monograph are essentially historical, i960 will be regarded as the ethnographic present, especially in chapters 6 through 9, unless otherwise indicated (in parentheses).

xv

Todos Santos in Rural Tlaxcala

INTRODUCTION

Inasmuch as the methodological and theoretical framework on which this monograph is based is discussed at length in the last four chapters and in the conclusions, this introduction covers only some necessary preliminaries. It presents the general scope, content, and aims of the study; a few essential points concerning the cult of the dead and its re­ lationship to the Catholic-folk-pagan religion of rural Tlaxcala; and an outline of Tlaxcalan demography, ethnohistory, and contemporary ethnography. (Unless otherwise indicated, temporal expressions such as "nowadays," "at present," "contemporary," and so on, refer to the ethnographic present.)

SCOPE, CONTENT, AND AIMS

Todos Santos (All Saints Day and All Souls Day), Dia de Muertos or Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead), Dia de los Difuntos (Day of the Dear Departed), and Dia de las Animas Benditas (Day of the Blessed Souls) are the most common names by which the combined liturgical feasts of All Saints Day and All Souls Day are usually known in Mexico and most of Latin America. Except for Christmas and Holy Week (Easter), All Saints Day-All Souls Day is the most important celebra­ tion in the yearly cycle of folk Catholicism in Mesoamerica. Of all the major areas of Christendom, it is probably in this culture area where the ritual and ceremonial elaboration of Todos Santos (as I shall hence­ forth refer to this combined liturgical feast) acquires its maximum expression. The folk manifestation of Todos Santos extends well be­ yond the traditional observations of All Saints Day and All Souls Day as practiced in orthodox Catholicism, and in rural Tlaxcala it acquires significant social, economic, demographic, and even recreational di­ mensions. Todos Santos is a time for homecoming, remembering and propitiating the dead, cementing and intensifying one's kinship and compadrazgo relationships, and sacralizing, albeit temporarily, inter­ personal relationships on a communitywide basis. During the period extending from five days before to seven days after November ι and 2. (which are the heart of the celebration), the country and the city come together, the little community becomes the cosmological center of ex­ istence, and individuals and families are renewed by remembering their roots and paying homage to those who are no longer here. For a tran-

3

INTRODUCTION

sient moment, the living and the dead are joined in the same world of existence. Since the Spanish conquest, the cult of the dead in Mesoamerica has been centered on Todos Santos, and in varying degrees it evolved into a syncretic complex out of the sixteenth-century interaction of pre-Hispanic polytheistic elements and Spanish-Catholic elements. The celebration of Todos Santos, however, is not uniform in Mesoamerican societies today. Rather, it exhibits differential manifestations, which are largely the result of the nature of local polytheistic manifestations at the time of the conquest, the degree to which particular regions were subjected to the processes of syncretism and acculturation during the colonial era, and demographic and cultural variables of more recent origin. While the belief system that supports the cult of the dead has remained fairly constant, the celebration of Todos Santos, and its structural implications, vary significantly from region to region. To take the physical-ritual manifestation of Todos Santos as an example, some regions emphasize vigils and the erection of elaborate altars of food and flowers in the cemetery (Michoacan and northern Mexico), others are noted for the ritual exuberance of processions and other public displays (Chiapas and highland Guatemala), while still others concentrate on the decoration of home altars and the tombs of the dead (Puebla and the valley of Mexico). Rural Tlaxcala, especially the municipios (counties) surrounding La Malintzi volcano, falls into the last of these categories, and several communities (Santa Maria Atlihuetzian, San Juan Ixtenco, San Nicolas Panotla, San Francisco Tepeyango, San Francisco Tetlanohca, San Juan Totolac) are deservedly noted for the excellence and the artistic decoration of their home altars and tombs. This book is concerned with the cult of the dead in rural Tlaxcala pivoting around its most elaborate manifestation in the annual cycle, the Todos Santos celebration. The reasons for adopting this descriptive strategy will become clear as the reader realizes the position and manifold configurations of the cult of the dead in the folk religion of the region. But this book is also concerned with a number of conceptual topics, for which the cult of the dead serves as a substantive vehicle: the analysis of syncretism and the elucidation of how it should be conducted in Mexico and other countries of Latin America; the analysis of expression and role of expressive culture in structural studies; the interdigitation of expression and syncretism in the formation and development of religious ideology; the place of symbolism within the context of or as an adjunct to substantive studies, especially of religion; and, specifically with reference to Mesoamerica, the amalgamation of elements of different cultural traditions (yet involving a modicum of 4

INTRODUCTION

structural similarities) into a religion that is pluralistically discharged but underlain by a unitary ideology. Throughout this monograph, the aim is to organize these different approaches and substantive domains into an integrated view of what the Catholic-folk-pagan religion means to rural Tlaxcalans and of how the complex's different components are articulated. I believe that this is the most significant substantive contribution of the monograph and that it will help in the understanding of similar problems in other sociocultural settings in Mesoamerica. The analysis of the ethnohistorical evidence on which this monograph is based will probably take years to complete. Nonetheless, the diachronic account presented in chapters 3 and 4 seems essentially correct. Even if further analysis of the large corpus of ethnohistorical data now in my possession would warrant alternative interpretations, the syncretic method and approach exemplified in this study will surely not need to be modified. With regard to the short-range historical perspective (from the last two decades of the nineteenth century to i960) and the contemporary ethnography of rural Tlaxcala, I feel certain I am on solid ground. The data base for this part of the work consists of indepth, open-ended, and sporadic interviews, collective and individual, with several hundred informants over the course of more than two decades; ten lengthy questionnaires administered during the past five years; innumerable observations during six celebrations of Todos Santos since i960; and countless observations of the ritual and ceremonial activities of the cult of the dead for three complete annual cycles, beside a collection of more than 600 color slides and photographs. My efforts at short-range historical reconstruction on the basis of oral tradition have been very rewarding, and most of the ethnography presented in this monograph and in the two earlier volumes on ritual kinship (Nutini and Bell 1980; Nutini 1984) has a rich texture of amplitude and detail concerning the transformation of rural Tlaxcalan society during the past four genertions which approaches the quality of directly observed and elicited ethnography. The facts that I resided in Tlaxcala for many years and wrote most of my work there have also been significant. If a datum was missing, or I needed additional information on a point or any kind of clarification, the answer was readily at hand. In this respect, my network of ritual kinsmen (that is, the compadres of my nuclear family—more than 130 of them) and old informants was extremely helpful. The data for this monograph come from approximately forty communities (about 20 percent of all rural communities in the twenty-one municipios of the state of Tlaxcala), which can be regarded as an opportunity sample that took into consideration population size, degree of 5

INTRODUCTION

secularization, elaboration of the Todos Santos complex, geographical location, ethnic differentiation, social stratification, and economic composition. Although information on the cult of the dead was collected in each community of the sample, the most intensely investigated communities were the following: Santa Maria Atlihuetzian, Santa Maria Acxotla del Monte, Santa Maria Belen Azitzimititlan, San Antonio Coaxomulco, San Bernardino Contla, Santa Cruz Tlaxcala, San Bartolome Cuahuixmatla, San Felipe Cuauhtenco, San Isidro Buen Suceso, San Juan Ixtenco, San Pablo del Monte, San Nicolas Panotla, San Luis Teolocholco, San Francisco Tepeyango, San Francisco Tetlanohca, San Damian Texoloc, San Esteban Tizatldn, San Juan Totolac, San Miguel Xaltipac, and San Dionisio Yauhquemehcan. These twenty communities (nine cabeceras, or municipal headtowns, and eleven satellite settlements) are in most respects representative of rural Tlaxcala as a whole. This monograph employs three conceptual approaches and addresses itself to several interrelated substantive domains in the religion and social organization of rural Tlaxcala. But it is first and foremost a study of syncretism, and it was written with the specific aim of contributing to the conceptualization of this approach to the study of religion.1 In two previous publications (Nutini 1976; Nutini and Bell 1980), the concept of syncretism is defined, its usefulness in studies of religion in Mesoamerica is demonstrated, and a limited-range theory is formulated to explain the syncretic synthesis of pre-Hispanic and SpanishCatholic elements from the conquest to the second half of the seventeenth century. With specific reference to the historical development of the cult of the patron saint and the ayuntamiento religioso (local religious government) in rural Tlaxcala, the provenance of its interacting elements and the achievement of a syncretic synthesis are analyzed. The main conclusion is that the amalgamation of elements and complexes was to a significant extent "induced," a concept for which the term "guided syncretism" is proposed. Following a similar line of inquiry, in this monograph and in a forthcoming publication on witchcraft (Nutini and Roberts, forthcoming), another form of syncretism is conceptualized and shown to be a complement to guided syncretism, both analytically and with respect to the substantive variables involved. By now, a comprehensive theory of syncretism is beginning to emerge, and I consider its formulation to be the main conceptual contribution of this monograph. Finally, the contents of this monograph may be summarized as follows: (1) The historical reconstruction of the development of All Saints Day and All Souls Day out of the confrontation of pre-Hispanic poly6

INTRODUCTION

theism and Spanish-Catholic monotheism (chapters 1-3). The final syncretic synthesis, as it crystallized during the second half of the seventeenth century, is conceptualized in terms of the confluence of a guided and a spontaneous component, (z) The traditional structure and functional discharge of the Todos Santos complex from the turn of the century to i960 (chapters 4 and 5). The specialization of the cult of the dead throughout the year, and the propitiation of the various kinds of souls, are placed within the context of the cult of the saints, and the sociological implications of the complex are analyzed with reference to kinship, compadrazgo, and friendship. (3) The expressive and symbolic analysis of the offerings to the dead in the household and the decoration and arrangement of the tombs in the cemetery (chapters 6-8). The vast array of expressive displays, contents, and forms of the private cult of the dead in the household and the cemetery is structurally and symbolically analyzed in its own right and with reference to the Catholicfolk-pagan organization of local religion. (4) The ideology and belief system of the cult of the dead as a descriptive and explanatory construct (chapters 9 and 10). The injunctions, imperatives, and commands of the complex in operation are informally operationalized in order to generate a measure of linear causality, especially in situations undergoing rapid sociocultural change. (5) The provenance and contemporary transformation of the cult of the dead (chapters 11 and 12). The social, economic, political, and religious variables and conditions that have shaped the transformation of the cult of the dead are analyzed within the context of the region and the nation. (6) Theoretical propositions concerning the expressive approach and the concept of syncretism (chapter 13 and conclusions).

T H E CULTS OF THE DEAD AND OF SAINTS IN RURAL TLAXCALAN FOLK RELIGION

This book is primarily concerned with the private cult of the dead and its position with respect to Todos Santos, which is its most elaborate manifestation in the annual cycle. The cult of the dead has a public component and manifestation as well. Throughout this monograph, unless otherwise indicated, the worship and propitiation of dead souls as a combined private and public complex will be referred to as the "cult of the dead," while the term "Todos Santos" will be used for the private cult of the dead alone. (In any case, the context of the description or analysis will usually make clear whether the private or the public cult of the dead is being discussed.) Both the private and public components, but especially the former, have many pre-Hispanic elements of 7

INTRODUCTION

ritualism, ceremonialism, and the ideology and practice of anthropomorphic supernaturalism (witchcraft, sorcery, and nahualism). Due to the peculiar syncretic development of rural Tlaxcalan religion, and the parallel configuration of anthropomorphic supernaturalism that developed more or less concomitantly with it, it is often difficult to assign pre-Hispanic and pagan elements to the general complex of witchcraft and sorcery or to the private-public cult of the dead. In some cases, there is no question that specific pre-Hispanic elements were incorporated into and syncretized within what is now a folk-pagan-Catholic complex, while in other cases pre-Hispanic elements of the cult of the dead survived, were syncretized, and became part of the magical, anthropomorphic supernatural complex still believed and practiced by rural Tlaxcalans with varying degrees of intensity. This volume is primarily concerned with the former, but the latter will be discussed on occasions when it becomes necessary for the illustration of a particular point. The full array of anthropomorphic supernaturalism and ancillary magical practices of rural Tlaxcalans, has been analyzed elsewhere (Nutini and Roberts, forthcoming), but the comparison of this complex with pre-Hispanic practices associated with folk Catholicism (however disguised and vestigial in form they may be today) is crucial to an understanding of the ideology and the belief system that underlie the magico-religious domain of the region. Relationships between Saints and Dead Souls In the folk Catholicism of rural Tlaxcala, and of many other regions of Mesoamerica, the saints and the souls of the dead have essentially the same structural and functional positions: they are objects of propitiation and supplication as intermediaries between individuals and the community on the one hand and the Christian God and other high supernatural powers in the universe on the other. The people approach, worship, and pray to the saints and the souls of the dead in the same fashion, and essentially no distinction emerges between the cult of the saints and the cult of the dead: the latter is a manifestation of the former, since saints are much more numerous than the different kinds of dead souls. In other words, in the folk Catholicism of rural Tlaxcala, structurally and behaviorally, the cult of the saints and the cult of the dead constitute a single, undifferentiated system. The origin of this phenomenon is rooted in the confluence of the preHispanic polytheistic conception of the gods and the ultimate destination of the dead, on the one hand, and the Christian conception of the saints and the souls of the dead as performing basically the same func8

INTRODUCTION

tions, on the other. In the pre-Hispanic system, the dead become essentially deified as they join the supernatural domain of the gods under whose tutelary patronage they left earthly existence; while in the Christian (particularly Catholic) system as it emerged from the Dark Ages, the souls of the dead (both of those who go directly to heaven and those who make the detour through purgatory) join the saints in the celestial court as acolytes or underlings of God. In other words, the cult of the dead and the cult of the saints in many regions of Mesoamerica are the product of two syncretic syntheses: first, the confluence of Judaic monotheism and Indo-European polytheism, and second, that of sixteenthcentury Spanish Catholicism and pre-Hispanic polytheism. Under such conditions, the supernatural pantheon of rural Tlaxcalan folk Catholicism cannot be described exactly as monotheism; it is, rather, monolatry—the idea that there is a supernatural being who is "first among equals," a religious version of primus inter pares—for the people never understood or paid much attention to the theological distinction between the Christian God and the saints as his underlings. (Indeed, even in supposedly more sophisticated regions or sectors of Christendom where this theological distinction has been recognized, behaviorally no distinction is apparent in the worship and propitiation of God and the saints.) In rural Tlaxcala, the cult of the saints includes all the manifestations of the Virgin Mary and Jesus Christ. In fact, the monolatrous nature of rural Tlaxcalan folk Catholicism is notably demonstrated by the fact that the primus inter pares in the local pantheon is not necessarily God the Father, God the Son, or God the Holy Spirit, but the patron saint of the community, who may be any of the manifestations of the Virgin Mary or any male or female saint. In this theologically fluid pantheon, the saints and the souls of the dead occupy rather ambiguous positions: sometimes as intermediaries between man and high supernaturals, sometimes as supernaturals themselves with independent power of their own. This blurs the distinction between God and his underlings, and it is the strongest evidence in support of rural Tlaxcalan folk Catholicism as a monolatrous system. This is a pervasive theme that colors every aspect of the cult of the dead. The cult of the dead and the cult of the saints also merge at the ritual, ceremonial, and administrative levels. The private and public components of both cults are discharged separately but merge at several junctures, by themselves and vis-a-vis each other. The private cults of the dead and of the saints are physically centered in the household and are ritually and ceremonially discharged by extended families and/or nonresidential extended families, while the public cults of the dead and of saints are physically centered in the local church and are ritually and 9

INTRODUCTION

ceremonially discharged by the mayordomia (cargo, stewardship) system, representing the community as a whole. Essentially, this dichotomization, especially in the case of the cult of the dead, is the result of the two rather distinct syncretic processes that affected the development of rural Tlaxcalan religion in colonial times: the public component, centered in the mayordomia system, became basically Catholic; while the private component, centered in the household, became a folk complex with many pre-Hispanic survivals. The private, household cult of the dead revolves around the family altar, and its highest manifestation is the Todos Santos celebration structured about the offerings to the dead. There are also several other occasions throughout the year when the family altar becomes the focal ritual and ceremonial center of the cult of the dead. By contrast, the public cult of the dead is discharged by one to as many as four local mayordomias, which are the concern of the community at large. It is intimately associated with the local church, and from this viewpoint, the mayordomias of the cult of the dead are the same as those of the cult of the saints. As a counterpart to the private cult of the dead, there are a number of occasions throughout the year when the mayordomias of the cult of the dead celebrate feasts for the different kinds of dead or participate in the celebrations of other mayordomias. The overall analysis of the cult of the dead indicates that its private, household component is much more important than its public component. The cult of the saints, on the other hand, is exactly the opposite: its public component is far more important than its private component. Like the private cult of the dead, the private cult of the saints is also centered in the household, but it is discharged partly by the extended families and nonresidential extended families and partly by the domestic groups of mayordomia officials whose turn it is during a given year to sponsor the most venerated images in the community (which may range from as few as a dozen to as many as four dozen). Inasmuch as the description and analysis of the public components of the cult of the saints have been a mainstay of community ethnography in Mesoamerica (and the terms "cargo system" and "mayordomia system" have become well known in anthropological description), they are not dealt with in this monograph, except insofar as they relate directly to the public cult of the dead. This book is principally concerned with the private cult of the dead and indirectly with the private cult of the saints, as these two aspects of the local folk religion are inseparable parts of the same ideological-structural domain. The cult of the dead exhibits a significant degree of differentiation, both with respect to how and under what circumstances the death oc10

INTRODUCTION

curred and with respect to the deceased person's final destination after death. Here again, the syncretic composition and religious origin of the cult of the dead amply account for the differentiation: the classifications of the dead who are honored, remembered, and propitiated by rural Tlaxcalans are primarily determined by pre-Hispanic polytheism and its conception of the afterlife, while the final destination of the dead is mainly determined by Christian theology and folk-Catholic beliefs. Analysis of these two aspects is of fundamental importance for understanding not only the cult of the dead but indeed the whole of rural Tlaxcalan Catholic-folk-pagan religion. At the same time, this analysis has provided an opportunity for discussing the social underpinnings of the cult of the dead and the imago mundi bridging the most important religious and social institutions of the local community. Mesoamerican ethnography has presented an adequate picture of the administrative and ritual discharge of Indian and Mestizo folk religion in a variety of settings, but it is deficient in the elucidation of the belief system underlying such discharge and its consequences for social behavior and action. This monograph deals with the problem and attempts to provide some answers that may apply to a wide variety of settings in Mesoamerica. Central Position of the Cult of the Dead There are at least a hundred full-length monographs on Indian and Mestizo communities in Mexico and Guatemala that discuss the cargo or mayordomia system as the core of local folk Catholicism. A considerable number of these monographs discuss the ayuntamiento religioso, its interrelationship with barrio ("ward," a socioreligious unit) organization, and the ancillary pagan system of beliefs and practices that parallels the practice of folk Catholicism. The descriptions of local folk religions emphasize administrative and to some extent ritual aspects, but no unitary system emerges, and the reader is left with the idea that folk religion is little more than a haphazard conglomerate of parts lacking a common thread. One explanation for this is that anthropologists working in this culture area have not paid enough attention to the belief system and ideological underpinnings of what I have called the Catholic-folk-pagan complex and Madsen (1957), more elegantly, has called Christo-Paganism. They have looked only at the surface structure of Mesoamerican folk religion, which gives an impression of disorganization, lack of ritual meaning in several domains of the system, and, above all, the absence of a unifying ideological core, common ancestry, and parallel historical process in folk Catholicism, the infra11

INTRODUCTION

structure that supports it, and ancillary pagan beliefs and practices. However, when one focuses on the deep structure of local religion and the ideological system that underlies it (that is, when one analyzes in depth the structure of pagan supernaturalism, unravels the syncretic composition of specific domains, and interdigitates the symbolic meanings of rites and ceremonies), a significantly different view emerges; things fall into place, and religious behavior acquires new meaning. In this study of rural Tlaxcalan religion, these goals have been kept constantly in mind, and my aim is to present a coherent account of religious behavior that makes intelligible the practice of seemingly disparate elements of both religious and magical provenance. Thus, this monograph is concerned not only with the cult of the dead but also with the structure and discharge of all varieties of supernaturalism (Catholic, folk, and pagan), for they share the same ideology and belief system. This is why in previous work, rural Tlaxcalan religion has been described as a "monistic ideological system pluralistically discharged" (Nutini and Isaac 1977:84). The cult of the dead is at the center of the local folk religion. It and the cult of the saints, the mayordomia system, the ayuntamiento religioso, and to a large extent the compadrazgo system constitute practically the whole folk Catholicism in the average rural Tlaxcalan community. Again, the cult of the dead, as conceptually regarded in this monograph, serves as a pivotal institution for analyzing several ritual and ceremonial domains. More important, it is the domain of the folk religion that to the highest degree embodies the confluence of pre-Hispanic and Spanish-Catholic elements in interaction. Thus, by unraveling the origin and syncretic composition of the several parts of the cult of the dead, one learns a good deal about the organization of local religion and the belief system that underlies it. But it is unquestionably the interplay of pre-Hispanic and Catholic elements in the cult of the dead that makes this institution most useful for illustrating the ideology of religion in operation. Through analysis of the nature of the various kinds of dead, their final destination, the rites and ceremonies associated with them, and the personnel discharging the complex, it is possible to establish the relationship between man and the supernatural and between the community and the supernatural, and to determine what is expected of them in the conduct of their religious life. Recognition of the syncretic composition of the cult of the dead and of the fact that dead souls are special kinds of saints illuminates and sometimes reveals the theological and ideological nature of the pantheon and the position of several entities and complexes in it: the saints, the anthropomorphic supernatural ensemble, the ideological unity and structural plurality of rites and ceremonies, the individual 12

INTRODUCTION

and collective structure of the personnel involved, and the goals and form of supernatural supplication and propitiation. From the perspective adopted in this monograph, no fundamental differences appear between the cult of the saints and the cult of the dead, on the one hand, and the supplication and propitiation of pagan supernaturals directly or through the mediation of non-Catholic intermediaries, on the other. Rather, these two aspects of local religion (which have usually been regarded by Mesoamericanists as separate domains) will be seen as spheres of action that not only occasionally merge but that also emanate from or are expressions of fundamental notions regarding the interrelationship of man and the supernatural. This monograph seeks to present a picture of the religious life of a region that transcends the mostly mechanical descriptions of so much of the literature on Mesoamerican religion. Most of what has been written about Mesoamerican Indian and Mestizo religion holds that it is essentially Catholic, that it involves a somewhat disjointed syncretic component, and that there is an ancillary magical complex (witchcraft, sorcery, and a number of assorted pagan beliefs) that is not necessarily part of the cult of the saints, the mayordomia system, and their administrative and personnel infrastructures. In other words, the sources maintain that the discharge of religion in many Indian and Mestizo communities is folk Catholicism vaguely tainted by pagan magical practices, not unlike, say, the relationship between folk Christianity and witchcraft and sorcery in European peasant society before the industrial revolution. This seems to have been the model implicit in the conceptualization of Mesoamerican Indian and Mestizo religion by anthropologists during the past fifty years. Again, while this may appear to be the case at the surface level, it is not so fundamentally, and the structure of local religion has a coherence higher than has been assumed, which is most clearly expressed at the ideological level and in the belief system that supports it. Thus, in rural Tlaxcala (and probably in many comparable regions of Mexico and Guatemala), while saints and other supernatural entities of the Catholic pantheon are discharged separately from pre-Hispanic supernaturals (usually an assortment of tutelary mountain owners and anthropomorphic spirits), and the rites and ceremonies associated with these two complexes are kept essentially apart, they are nonetheless the reflection of a common ideology and entail a single belief system that structures their respective ritual and ceremonial complexes. When folkCatholic and pagan, pre-Hispanic rites and ceremonies occasionally merge, sequentially or contemporaneously, they most clearly exemplify their common ideological foundation and the same self-directed pro13

INTRODUCTION

pitiatory, supplicatory, and/or intensifying supernatural ends. In other words, when rural Tlaxcalans, say, propitiate Saint Michael the Archangel and the tutelary owner of La Malintzi volcano, or make offerings to the souls of the dead and to the tutelary owner of El Cuatlapanga hill, they are engaged in the same ritual or ceremonial activities, and no behavioral and ideological differences are involved. This unity in plurality is what gives coherent meaning to the magico-religious system, and its pervasive ramifications in local culture and society are variously discussed in this monograph. The single, most fundamental ideological principle that governs the discharge of the magico-religious system of rural Tlaxcala is the belief in a human-supernatural covenant: individuals and the collectivity and the supernatural powers that watch over them (including God, the saints, tutelary and anthropomorphic entities, and several pagan spirits) are bound together by a quid pro quo, in which a large number of ritual, ceremonial, and material functions and activities are undertaken by the individuals and the collectivity in honor of the supernatural powers in exchange for their making the world of human existence safe and pleasant for personal and communal interaction. Almost the entire extent of magico-religious functions and activities involves the supplication, propitiation, and intensification of supernatural entities for the well-being of individuals and the collectivity. From this viewpoint, the magico-religious system of rural Tlaxcalans is essentially pragmatic— surprisingly devoid of moral overtones—and deviates greatly from orthodox Catholicism, which is first and foremost a moral system ramifying throughout the entire fabric of society. This pragmatic yet sacred covenant, then, is the ideological thread that weaves seemingly disparate elements of the magico-symbolic system into a unitary design; and when the covenant ceases to exist, so does the traditional fabric of rural Tlaxcalan communities. Throughout this monograph, special attention is paid to the units and categories of people whose actions constitute the behavioral building blocks in the discharge of the cult of the dead. The categories of people are consanguineal kinsmen, affinal kinsmen, compadres, and friends, and the units consist primarily of households (nuclear and extended), nonresidential extended families, socioreligious groups, and the community as a whole. The nature of interpersonal relationships is analyzed, and kinsmen, compadres, and friends are seen interacting in multistranded roles, as individuals and as members of networks and webs. Once more, the cult of the dead is used as a vehicle to demonstrate the social structure in operation. The relationship of the cult of the dead (as a large representative domain of the local magico-religious M

INTRODUCTION

system) to the structure of kinship and compadrazgo exemplifies an important juncture in the changing picture of the sociocultural spectrum of rural Tlaxcala. It may be termed the "desacralization" of interpersonal relationships, and it is analyzed from several standpoints. SOME THEORETICAL AND METHODOLOGICAL CONSIDERATIONS

The main theoretical and methodological positions employed in this analysis of the cult of the dead are outlined here. In the conclusions and chapter 13, syncretism, the expressive focus, and symbolism are analyzed as an integrated conceptual approach for the study of several related domains of religion, and the methodological issues involved in their integration are discussed. Syncretism and the Study of Magic and Religion The concept of syncretism has a rather long history in studies of Mesoamerican folk religion. As far back as the early 1930s, a number of anthropologists interested in the interrelationship of pre-Hispanic, folk, and Catholic elements in the religious systems of local communities have used the concept with varying degrees of success. It has not, however, been rendered as operational as is possible in the Mesoamerican area. Religion in Mesoamerica contains manifold syncretic elements, and as one moves from the cities to the most traditional Indian communities, one encounters interesting, often curious, blends of magical and religious elements of several provenances: pre-Hispanic, African, sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Spanish Catholic, modern Protestant, and even Jewish. A case can be made that syncretism is the pivotal concept in the study of how religious and magical systems come into existence, grow, develop, decay, and in turn give rise to other systems. This is obviously the case of Buddhism arising out of Hinduism and of Christianity and Mohammedanism arising out of Judaism. The most interesting case, and probably the best documented, is Christianity, which rests on three pillars: Hebrew sacred history, Roman law and administration, and Greek philosophy. This threefold syncretic synthesis, which was probably achieved in western and Mediterranean Europe by the late ninth century, was augmented by confrontation with northern and eastern European polytheism, probably between the seventh and eleventh centuries in several different cultural environments (Schaffler 1947:230245). There is a vast amount of information on the nature of these syncretic syntheses, the contexts in which they took place, the elements 15

INTRODUCTION

and institutions in confrontation and in the processes of fusing, the administrative personnel and social groupings that were involved in the processes, and the heated and sometimes bloody confrontations and disputes that the growth and development of Christianity in Europe entailed. (Indeed, the heresies, schisms, and religious repressions in Europe from the fourth to the sixteenth centuries may be interpreted as responses to the syncretic processes that have underlain the formation of the various branches of Christianity.) Since the time of the early church fathers (fourth, fifth, and sixth centuries), and particularly since the Renaissance, theologians, church and other historians, jurists, and other scholars have written about these matters (see Rado 1961, vol. 2) and have given fairly detailed examples of syncretism for several of the great religions—Roman and Greek polytheism, Judaism, Buddhism, Hinduism, Zoroastrianism, and so on (King 1910:465-520). But not even modern scholars have approached the subject systematically, and certainly no sound theory of syncretism has ever been formulated. Anthropologists, of all scholars, should have shown more interest in such a universal aspect of religion. But they have apparently been busy describing and salvaging from oblivion the more visible domains of folk and primitive societies, while probably hundreds of syncretic syntheses have been going on unrecorded from the tropical forests of South America to the jungles of Africa and the Pacific islands. Given the plasticity of religion, the rather limited number of supernatural forms, and the psychological unity of supernatural supplication and propitiation, syncretism could have been conceptually formulated as a domain similar to kinship, for the subject matter of religion (particularly supernatural beings and their relationship to the social group) ranks a close second in inherent structure and regularity to that of kinship. The basic nature and meaning of syncretism have been known to scholars since Plutarch (1924:132), who used the concept with reference to politics in essentially the same sense that most anthropologists use it today—namely, a synthesis growing out of the contact or collision of two complexes of elements or institutions (not necessarily religious) from different cultural traditions. The synthesis may be the result of similarities in the initial interacting traditions, pressures from other sectors of the interacting cultures, or other factors. The concept has not been refined much since Plutarch's time. When the historian Reville (1956:210-235) describes the blending and assimilation of Etruscan, Latin, and Greek gods during the second century A.D., or when the anthropologist Madsen (1957:111-137) describes ChristoPaganism, their accounts are little more than statements that syncretism has taken place during a certain period for a number of entities in 16

INTRODUCTION

interaction. There is little attempt at systematic analysis, and no theory or hypotheses emerge as to why and under what conditions syncretism takes place; and this is true of all historians and anthropologists who have used the concept. It was dissatisfaction with the unsystematic, even cavalier, use of a concept that was richly endowed with analytical possibilities that led me to approach its study in the context of one of the most clearly delineated cases of syncretism, in which the principal branch of Christianity confronted the religion of the most advanced civilization in the New World. As already noted, the concept of guided syncretism was developed with reference to the substantive domains of the cult of the patron saints and the ayuntamiento religioso in Tlaxcala (Nutini and Bell 1980:187-331). The principal dynamic components of guided syncretism may be summarized as follows: (1) A moderate to high degree of structural, functional, and/or symbolic similarity among the supernatural, ritual, and/or administrative elements and institutions in interaction. (2) The political, economic, and social subordination of one of the interacting cultural traditions to the other. (3) The demand of the religious leaders of the dominant cultural tradition that the subordinate population convert to their religion, and their ability to guide and to some extent manipulate the interacting elements and/or institutions during the process. (4) The gradual conversion of the subordinate population, resulting in a clearly discernible developmental cycle, and the conscious use by the personnel in charge of conversion of symbolic subterfuges, social and economic rewards and coercion, and any real or apparent similarities in the interacting religious systems, to quicken the pace of conversion. (5) A resultant, asymmetric syncretic synthesis, in which the religious polity is no longer aware of the provenance of the various component elements. Under the administration and control of the viceroyalty of New Spain, and under the religious guidance of the Franciscan friars, the syncretic synthesis of the cult of the saints, the ayuntamiento religioso, and other aspects of Tlaxcalan Indian religion had been roughly achieved by 1670. This was essentially a folk-Catholic complex, which did not change much until the twentieth century. Although predominantly Catholic in form and appearance, it was shot through with structural and ideological elements and beliefs of pre-Hispanic origin. The asymmetry of the complex on the side of Catholicism was evident, as it is today, in the roster of worshipped supernaturals, the structure of rites and ceremonies, and the annual calendar of events and activities. On the other hand, the fundamentally pragmatic and utilitarian conceptions of the relationship between man and the supernatural and 17

INTRODUCTION

of the basic nature of the supernatural itself have remained pre-Hispanic until today, at least as exemplified by the remaining traditional communities in rural Tlaxcala. During the analysis of anthropomorphic supernaturalism in rural Tlaxcala, and more recently of the cult of the dead, it became clear that the concept of guided syncretion did not explain these phenomena. The first difference to be noted was that the cult of the dead had become more symmetrical than the synthesis of the cult of the saints and the ayuntamiento religioso; both structurally and ideologically, the preHispanic and Catholic components of the cult of the dead were more evenly represented, and it was often difficult to determine what was pre-Hispanic and what was Catholic, above and beyond a number of convergences obtaining in the two religious traditions. This has led to the conceptualization of another form of syncretism, called "spontaneous syncretism," implying that it is freer and more "natural" than guided syncretism. The conception of spontaneous syncretism is defined and illustrated in the present monograph. Spontaneous syncretism can be differentiated from guided syncretism, at least in rural Tlaxcala, by reference to the five main components of guided syncretism noted above. With respect to (i), (z), and (5), there are no differences. Both guided and spontaneous syncretism were affected by the same constraints of similarities and differences in the interacting cultural traditions and the subordination of the Indians to Spanish rule, and at the completion of the syncretic syntheses the religious polity was equally unaware of the provenance of their component parts. The differences lie in (3) and (4). With respect to (3), the religious leaders of the dominant cultural tradition do not have any direct input in guiding, manipulating, or forcing in any significant way the process of syncretism. In the case of the cult of the dead, the Franciscan friars (always few in number relative to the Indian population) were preoccupied with abolishing the main tenets of pre-Hispanic polytheism and/or were not aware that, independently of what they were destroying (the public, more visible aspects of the old religion), another syncretic synthesis was taking place in the context of the household— namely, the more or less free amalgamation of pre-Hispanic and Catholic elements in a private cult of the dead. There may have been other reasons as well, but whatever the reasons, the cult of the dead reached syncretic maturity during the first half of the seventeenth century largely independently of the Franciscan friars and then of the secular clergy that replaced them. With respect to (4), the process of spontaneous syncretism also undergoes a definite cycle, but in Tlaxcala, the cult of the dead—un18

INTRODUCTION

constrained by the guiding or meddling efforts of the Franciscans and secular priests—went through a more rapid cycle, and the complex reached maturity at least a generation before the cult of the saints and the ayuntamiento religioso, which were guided syncretic complexes par excellence. By the first third of the seventeenth century, the cult of the dead had achieved the basic form in which it is known today, or at least in which it was known (by reconstruction) at the beginning of the twentieth century. It exhibits a greater retention of pre-Hispanic elements, it is significantly less Catholic in ideology and underlying beliefs, and it has a more pagan ritual complex than the cult of the saints or any other domain of rural Tlaxcalan religion. (The case of witchcraft and sorcery in rural Tlaxcala presents yet another form of syncretism, which has been analyzed elsewhere [Nutini and Roberts, forthcoming]. Partly spontaneous, like the cult of the dead, the syncretism involved in the witchcraft-sorcery complex was also partly guided, at least to the extent that the Franciscans were able to insulate local communities from the influences of Spanish and African beliefs and practices in the same domain. This not only resulted in a parallel syncretic development, but it retarded the cycle of the complex significantly with respect to the syncretism of the mainstream of religion.) From a methodological viewpoint, this monograph may be regarded as an exercise in the formulation and resolution of a syncretic problem. After thoroughly grounding the cult of the dead in the ethnographic present, the analysis takes up the other parametric limit of the syncretic situation, the Spanish Conquest. The configuration of the cult of the dead out of the interaction of two structurally and functionally rather similar complexes is demonstrated, and its development over a period of more than a century, and its contemporary position in the wider framework of rural Tlaxcalan Catholic-folk-pagan religion, are described. For the first time, at least for Mesoamerica, we have an exhaustive description and analysis of a single religious institution, in which the present and the past are inseparably interrelated. As the analysis proceeds, junctures that can be tapped and ancillary domains that can profitably be brought to bear in clarifying difficult problems are identified, and the interrelationships of the cult of the dead and several other domains of local Tlaxcalan religion are demonstrated. Although this monograph contains several general methodological suggestions, it is essentially geared toward the study of syncretism in Mesoamerica, where many aspects of Indian and Mestizo culture are syncretic in nature. Its most salient methodological point is the extrapolation not only from the past to the present but also, and equally important, from the present to the past. This procedure is particularly 19

INTRODUCTION

well suited to anthropological research with its emphasis on the ethnographic present. It is facilitated, in the present case, by the abundant documentation on pre-Hispanic culture at the time of the conquest and the reasonably good documentation on the period of eighty years or so afterward, when the syncretic syntheses were initially structured. Thus, with respect to the cult of the dead specifically and a number of ancillary complexes generally, the analysis moves back and forth between the ethnographic present and the pre-Hispanic situation and the original sixteenth-century synthesis. The structural and symbolic analyses of many aspects of the contemporary cult of the dead aid in the understanding of the original synthesis and of the role many pre-Hispanic elements played in it, while the interaction of pre-Hispanic elements and sixteenth-century Spanish Catholic elements provides many clues concerning contemporary behavior and action that one could not otherwise entirely understand. From the purely methodological viewpoint, the structural, functional, and symbolic extrapolation from two well-known historical baselines and the oscillation between them (in the present example, not only between the era of the conquest and the ethnographic present but also, on a more modest scale, between the turn of the century and i960) are of significant help, especially when the ethnohistorical information for the intermediate period is poor or nonexistent, as is the case for the cult of the dead from the second half of the seventeenth century until the last two decades of the nineteenth century. These and related points are recurrently introduced throughout the monograph. The Cult of the Dead as an Expressive Domain In addition to the syncretic focus as a conceptual and methodlogical thrust in explaining the structure and development of the cult of the dead, this monograph may also be regarded as a study of cultural expression in the contemporary setting of that cult. Modern anthropologists have been aware of expression as an important aspect of cultural life; the best ethnographies and some theoretical work attest to this. Awareness of expression does not mean that anthropologists have either systematically defined and operationalized the concept or given extensive demonstrations of it in operation, but no anthropologist has done more to develop the concept, clarify its domains, and formalize the approach to it than John M. Roberts. He is indeed the pioneer of expressive studies. The theoretical ideas and methodological notions concerning expressive culture that are found in this monograph are Roberts's, as elaborated by him and his collaborators during the past 20

INTRODUCTION

twenty years (Roberts 1976; Roberts, Chiao, and Pandey 1975; Roberts and Chick 1979; Roberts and Golder 1970; Roberts, Koening, and Stark 1969; Roberts, Meeker, and Aller 1972; Roberts and Natrass 1980; Roberts and Sutton-Smith 1962; Roberts, Williams, and Poole 1982). It has been my good fortune to have been and to continue to be Roberts's collaborator on an expressive study of the Mexican aristocracy and haute bourgeoisie (Nutini, Roberts, and Cervantes 1982, 1984; Roberts, Nutini, and Cervantes, forthcoming) and on a study of the expressive aspects of bloodsucking witchcraft in rural Tlaxcala (Nutini and Roberts, forthcoming). At this stage of the research, expressive culture may be defined as that aspect of culture that is essentially noninstrumental and directly linked to antecedent psychological states. In the same vein, an expressive array may be defined as the aggregate of those culture patterns (domains) that either directly realize expression or have expressive coloration. The basic assumption here is that many aspects of culture, ranging from Aztec human sacrifice to discriminations among clothing styles and including manners and mores, play, aggression, warfare, and many aspects of religion, are not the manifestation of material conditions alone. If one wishes to construct a predictive model of the behavior of a particular population, one must deal with psychological and social expression as it is manifested within the expressive array. Thus, in the study of the Mexican haute bourgeoisie, it is assumed that this class has its own expressive array, distinct from the array utilized by other classes in the Mexican stratification system. Similarly, the cult of the dead in rural Tlaxcala has an expressive array that differs from the arrays of urban Oaxacans, of urban Pueblans, and of the peoples of other rural regions of the central Mexican highlands. In other words, social, economic, and religious variables do not exhaust the parameters in the explanation of the cult of the dead, witchcraft and sorcery, and other ritual-symbolic domains. People are willing to die for expressive commitments, in defense not only of religion but of many other domains, and these very often tragic involvements cannot be explained exclusively in terms of the effects of socioeconomic and political variables. One could also say that economic, political, social, and religious variables and the adaptation to natural environments constitute necessary variables for the explanation of many cultural phenomena, whereas sufficient causes are almost invariably expressive or contain a significant expressive component. We do not yet fully understand what these expressive variables are and how they are constituted socially and psychologically, but considerable progress has been made by Roberts and 21

INTRODUCTION

his associates concerning the general configuration that a working theory of expression will have. There is no culture in the world without an expressive array, and while there is a significant range of expressive categories, there is also a significant core of expressive forms common to most cultures which are usually manifested as conventional ethnographic categories: the stages in the life cycle, the patterns of interpersonal relationships, games and recreation, and arts and crafts, to name the most obvious. While the cult of the dead may not be a universal category, the ultimate destination of the dead and the ritualism associated with death itself (with which this monograph is largely concerned) most certainly are, and they obey injunctions and constraints that are both ideological (theological) and expressive. Students of expressive culture obviously must assume that there is structure in expression, otherwise expressive studies would be unfalsifiable. To say that expressive culture is structured is to refer not to the will-o'-the-wisp logic that permits students of cultural symbolism to find structure in metaphorical constructions impossible to verify, but rather to the logic of structure implied by verification on the basis of standard scientific procedures. Theoretical consideration aside, students of expressive culture have so far managed to do three things. First, they have delineated many expressive arrays concerning games, folk tales, riddles, pantheons of gods, beliefs, and so on, in terms of particular styles. Second, expressive arrays have been decomposed into circumscribed domains with respect to semantic structure, cultural variability, and the clustering of the participant personnel's behavior. Third, although no full-fledged theory of participation in expressive behavior and actions has yet been formulated, there has been considerable progress in determining why members of a given class or social grouping are differentially involved in expressive patterns. Particularly noteworthy in this respect is the work of Roberts and Sutton-Smith (196Z), who developed a "conflict-enculturation theory of model involvement," which accounts for some of the variance. This is where expressive culture studies stand at present. Chapters 6, 7, and 8 may be regarded as constituting an expressive study of the physical and symbolic manifestation of the cult of the dead during the Todos Santos celebration. These chapters are concerned with the description and analysis of the offerings to the dead in the household and the decoration of the graves in the cemetery, arrays which are decomposed into a number of expressive domains according to aims and goals, the underlying themes of supplication and propitiation, the configuration of participating personnel, and the incidence of functions and activities. At the same time, an account is presented of 22

INTRODUCTION

the physical and supernatural religious apparatus that supports and gives meaning to the expressive arrays of the cult of the dead, which may also be regarded as expressive arrays of the local folk religion. What emerges out of this combined description and analysis is a statement of the salient expressive domains in the discharge of local and regional religion. The account is not as formal and structured as previous expressive analyses have been (see Roberts and Chick 1979; Roberts and Nattrass 1980; Roberts, Chiao, and Pandey 1975), but it is quantitative, and it does present the range of expressive religious bahavior in rural Tlaxcala in systematic fashion. There are two reasons for including an expressive description and analysis of the cult of the dead in this monograph. First, the expressive array of the cult of the dead constitutes a descriptive end in itself. It is important to know the expressive configuration of any functioning sociocultural system: it delimits the rather tenuous boundaries between instrumental and noninstrumental life, it provides clues to the interrelationships between these two basic aspects of culture, and it tells us something about the rational (instrumental) and nonrational (noninstrumental) behavior and decisions of a group of people. This is particularly the case with the cult of the dead centered around Todos Santos, which involves the salient domains of, and the largest block of behavior in, the expressive life of rural Tlaxcalans. Indeed, rural Tlaxcalans regard the offerings to the dead in the household and the decoration of tombs in the cemetery as the highest forms of expression, not only in personal and communal involvement but also in terms of artistic and aesthetic commitment. The offerings to the dead-family altar ensemble in the household and the decorated tombs in the cemetery for the Todos Santos celebration may also be considered as distinct manifestations of folk art, in which design and care of execution are pregnant with ritual and symbolic meaning. Second, the study of the expressive manifestations of the cult of the dead serves an analytical purpose. Expression is intimately related to symbolism and ritual, and as the latter two are explored as manifestations of the former, one is more likely to find sociological meaning than in the often empty analyses of symbols in metaphorical terms. Moreover, the analysis of patterns of expression (decoration, display, the use of specific materials, the selection of natural and manufactured elements, and so on) is essential to the understanding of the symbolic system and may enable the analyst to achieve a measure of verification— that is, establishment of the meaning that the symbols have with respect to the social structure in operation. Perhaps the most significant use of the expressive analysis of the cult of the dead is as a tool for recon2

3

INTRODUCTION

structing several aspects of the syncretic synthesis and for understanding the contemporary function of pre-Hispanic elements. Analysis of the arrangement, constitution, form, and quality of the offerings to the dead in the household tells us much about the nature of the institution in pre-Hispanic times and how it came to be syncretized with Spanish Catholic elements. The expressive array, then, serves as a scenario in which symbolism and ritual are seen as the final unfolding of syncretism. Finally, better than in any other context, it is within the expressive array that one can determine the feedback effect of ideology, or the way in which specific beliefs acquire an efficacy of their own, independent of the socioeconomic conditions that produced them. More effectively than at any other juncture of the sociocultural system, the expressive array demonstrates that "man does not live by bread alone." Symbolism and Ritual in the Cult of the Dead Human beings are of course symbolic animals, who live and die by symbols. Ever since the forefathers of the social and anthropological sciences in the sixteenth century, especially Bodin and Montaigne (Hodgen 1964:191-196), conceived of symbolic behavior as the defining characteristic of humanity, scholars concerned with culture and society have consistently addressed themselves to the problems that this concept entails. Since the time that anthropology emerged as an independent academic discipline at the turn of the century, no major anthropologist has failed to discuss the nature and meaning of symbolism and the role it plays in the conduct of anthropological inquiry. All practicing anthropologists have had to deal with the use of symbolism in their descriptive and analytical works. With varying degrees of clarity and success, they have all tasted the delights and frustrations of trying to make sense of symbolic constructions and mystifications, creating in the process a valuable tool for the formulation of theories and hypotheses for the scientific understanding and explanation of behavior and action. Until perhaps a generation ago, however, symbolism was not regarded as a field of inquiry in itself (an ontological entity); rather, it was considered a method, a tool, or an aid (an epistemological entity) for the conceptualization of behavior in all its manifestations. The unravelling of symbols and the assignment of meaning to the metaphors they entailed, it was thought, were useful supplements to structural and functional studies, and anthropologists of the most varied persuasions (with the possible exception of Marxists) implicitly or explicitly engaged in symbolic analysis as an adjunct to their social, religious, and even economic and political studies. 24

INTRODUCTION

The past generation (roughly since i960) has witnessed the emergence of symbolism as an independent field of inquiry, a circumscribed ontological domain. The study of symbols, and ancillary to it the study of ritual and myth, has become an end in itself, with its own fairly clear aims and objectives and its own, less clearly formulated, method of inquiry. Some practitioners place themselves in the humanistic tradition, rejecting any claims to scientific explanation (see Douglas 1966; Tambiah 1973; Turner 1974). The majority of practitioners do not take such a radical position but still regard symbolic studies as exercises in systematic understanding not necessarily entailing explanation or, more precisely, linear causation (see Todorov 1982; Grottanelli 1981; Sperber 1975). Rather, symbolic anthropologists seem to have become disillusioned with scientific explanation, and they have opted for understanding the meaning of symbols and their function in concrete sociocultural settings. Whatever the merits and faults of the work that symbolic anthropologists have produced during the past two decades, their studies have often been elegant, entertaining to read, and to a considerable extent useful in understanding man the symbol maker and symbol user. Of all the social sciences, anthropology has always been the most liberal and eclectic in defining its disciplinary aims, and if symbolic anthropologists conceive of their craft as a humanistic, philosophical endeavor, not unlike that of literary critics, it is a perfectly acceptable choice. This option, however, means that they must largely relinquish the role of scientists, for regardless of the elegance and the insights characterizing the best symbolic studies, these constructions are essentially neither explanatory nor predictive or falsifiable. The rise of symbolic studies as ends in themselves seems to be related to the exhaustion of the functional paradigm, to the adoption of certain premises from linguistics that have not been operationalized in a sociocultural context, and to an emphasis on the nonscientific aspects of structuralism. As functionalism has proven inadequate and intractable to increasingly more exacting verification techniques, a significant segment of the anthropological community has turned to symbolism as an alternative mode of understanding sociocultural phenomena. Disregarding structuralism's scientifically sound conception of the social structure (see Nutini 1965) and emphasizing Levi-Strauss's fascination with the stuff of symbol and myth, contemporary symbolic anthropologists have adopted a number of conceptions and techniques from linguistics (where they are well embedded substantively and properly operationalized) that they have not been able to structure into a system, thereby producing constructs that sound plausible and convincing at times but 25

INTRODUCTION

are ultimately impossible to verify. Meanwhile, few anthropologists are producing those magnificent ethnographies for which the discipline has deservedly been noted, a task of foremost importance at least until the appearance of a more viable scientific paradigm than any now on the scene. How one longs for the Evans-Pritchards and Firths of the modern folk and urban environments! In any event, the symbolic focus, like several presently competing approaches, is probably an instance of Leslie White's characterization of anthropology as a discipline in which "problems are not solved; they are simply abandoned." In this monograph, several aspects of the cult of the dead in rural Tlaxcala have been symbolically analyzed from the standpoint of the syncretic composition of the complex and its highly expressive physical and to some extent ritual manifestation. To that extent, the present monograph, too, is an exercise in symbolism. But it is an "old-fashioned" study of symbolism, with the virtues and limitations that this entails. Symbolic analysis is here not an end in itself, performed in vacuo; rather, it is a means to an end, firmly grounded in a concrete social structure and a ritual-physical milieu spanning 450 years and two magico-religious traditions. The symbolic analysis does not develop into an elegant construction—indeed, it is perhaps pedestrian—but it does have the significant merit that it is partly falsifiable and contributes to the explanation of some aspects of the cult of the dead as a constituent of the wider magico-religious system of rural Tlaxcala. The analysis does not reveal any hermeneutic truths about the portentous properties of symbol making, but it does illuminate how rural Tlaxcalans manipulate their symbolic creations and the epistemology behind the manipulations. Above all, the reader will be able to determine at what junctures verification is possible, in the direct or indirect interplay between structure and ideology in ritual and display. In this work, the term symbolic system refers to the global complex of symbols that constitute the principal reinforcing mechanism operating between a stated ideological order and its corresponding structural domain. Thus, the symbolic system of rural Tlaxcala has the primary function of reinforcing the supernatural belief system, integrating it into a coherent set of rituals, ceremonies, and associated practices. Individual socioreligious symbols are not independently efficacious; rather, they function in a collective way and impinge upon each other to form an integrated whole. Conversely, from a heuristic viewpoint, independent symbols are rarely isolatable; one must deal, instead, with symbolic complexes involving collective representations. A socioreligious symbol is a physical representation (a sign) or a social representation (a patterned action) that stands for a general or particular concept embodying a single or complex belief. The presence or 26

INTRODUCTION

activation of the symbol involves the functional reinforcement of the denoted belief, which is always translated into specified behavior and action. Symbols and symbolic behavior in rural Tlaxcala are sociopsychologically designed to create a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy of what the supernatural belief system dictates; in fact, there are really no effective symbols that are not religious or not directly associated with the supernatural belief system of rural Tlaxcalans (Nutini and Isaac 1977:92-94). This conception of symbolism may be criticized as too restricted and lacking a psychological dimension (a necessary complement that has been sorely lacking in most symbolic studies), but it has proved useful in the elucidation of the belief system underlying the cult of the dead and in the reconstruction of its syncretic origins and development. The interplay among physical display, ritual execution, and levels of personnel in action is undoubtedly the most meaningful juncture at which symbols lay bare the beliefs that they reinforce; while the identification of contrasts between Catholic and non-Catholic symbols and their manifestation, in sometimes complementary and sometimes independent ritual environments, is a most helpful method for reconstructing the original syncretic synthesis and how it proceeded. These two advantages of the present conception of symbolism compensate for its disadvantages, in addition to being embedded in a firm social and cultural foundation. More than any other aspect or domain of rural Tlaxcalan culture and society, the cult of the dead exemplifies the confluence of syncretic and expressive approaches in the light of their symbolic underpinnings. The account that follows is not as systematic as it might be, but it does demonstrate how the approaches complement each other at different levels and junctures of the cult of the dead as it unfolds historically and is manifested ethnographically in the ritual, physical, and social spheres: the syncretic colors the expressive, the expressive is a surviving manifestation of the original synthesis, and the syncretic and the expressive are undergirded by a symbolic system that demonstrates their ideological and structural interrelationships. Each of these methods or strategies has been employed separately, with effective results, but not, until now, as complementary constituents of a single focus. Therein lies the potential contribution of this monograph. T H E SOCIAL AND CULTURAL SETTING

Rural Tlaxcala is part of the twenty-one municipios (among the fortyfour comprising the state of Tlaxcala) surrounding La Malintzi volcano, the most prominent feature in the Tlaxcala-Pueblan valley (see 27

Map i . Administrative Divisions of the State of Tlaxcala

INTRODUCTION

map ι ) . The population of these twenty-one municipios in i960 was about 260,000, approximately three-fourths of the state's total popu­ lation of slightly less than 350,000. About 50,000 people live in four small cities: Tlaxcala, the capital (10,000), Apizaco (15,000), Chiautempan (12,000), and Huamantla (13,000). The remainder, about 80 percent of the population of the twenty-one municipios, live in the rural area, consisting of nucleated and seminucleated communities varying from small hamlets of between 400 and 500 people to large villages with 4,000 to 5,000 people, and it is they who are the specific focus of this study. Socially, religiously, and economically, however, the rural area and the cities are closely bound together; indeed, rural-urban dif­ ferentiation is minimal (Nutini and Isaac 1974). This area has been the heartland of the Tlaxcalan region since before the Spanish conquest. It is probably the most homogeneous area of the central Mexican highlands, a homogeneity that has its roots in pre-Hispanic times and developed during more than 400 years of colonial and republican rule. Although only about 20 percent of the population can be classified as Indian in ethnic and somatic terms, another 25 percent must be so classified in cultural terms. In such a situation, the concepts of Indian and Mestizo have little or no importance in understanding interethnic relations. About 30,000 people are bilingual speakers of Na­ huatl and Spanish, and some 3,000 are monolingual in Nahuatl (the rest of the population being monolingual in Spanish). But not even on linguistic grounds is it possible to make meaningful generalizations concerning interethnic relations and differences in cultural configura­ tions. Furthermore, rural Tlaxcala is a basically egalitarian society; only recently has there been an incipient rise in stratification on the ba­ sis of socioeconomic classes of the urban type. In addition to its cultural homogeneity, the region has been marked by an unusual degree of social and cultural continuity. Although there have been many modernizing changes during the past eighty years or so, the great majority of the rural communities have remained tradi­ tional in the sense that the institutional, integrative core of community life—which includes a sacred-oriented ideology and world view, the mayordomia system, the ayuntamiento religioso, barrio organization, certain elements of kinship and compadrazgo, and a Christo-pagan folk religion—has proved remarkably resistent to secularization (Nu­ tini and Isaac 1974:366-372). In summary, rural Tlaxcala may be characterized as an ethno-cultural continuum in which Indian, transitional, and Mestizo communi­ ties share a common cultural denominator. Historical and ethno­ graphic details are beyond the scope of this monograph, but certain 29

INTRODUCTION

diachronic and synchronic antecedents must be mentioned in order to position the cult of the dead in rural Tlaxcala. Brief Ethnohistory Tlaxcala was one of the first regions of Mesoamerica to be organized economically, religiously, and administratively as an integral part of the viceroyalty of New Spain. By about 1580, the Indian population had been incorporated into the administrative fabric of the Spanish empire, and most of the Indians had been catechized and converted to Catholicism. By the same time, the pre-Hispanic principalities (senorios) of the region had been completely abolished—that is, their organization as states, minimal as it was, had ceased to exist—and the population had been organized into republicas de indios (independent congregations), enjoying a signficant degree of autonomy. Hand in hand with these political and religious developments, part of the Indian population was being harnessed for economic exploitation by means of the encomienda and repartimiento system (Nutini and Isaac 1974:275-280). One of the most important factors in the rapid assimilation of the Indian population of the region was the catechizing efforts of the Franciscan friars, who began their work immediately after the conquest with the foundation of a monastery in Tlaxcala by Fray Martin de Valencia in 1524. By the end of the sixteenth century, the Franciscans had constructed and were actively maintaining nine monasteries in the Tlaxcalan region. The success of the Franciscans in the conversion and religious organization of the Indians was paralleled by the civil authorities in the organization of the republicas de indios and in the establishment of effective means of economic exploitation. If to these factors are added the proximity of Tlaxcala to the seat of viceregal power—Mexico City, ninety miles away—and the exposure of the region to the principal commercial routes of New Spain, it is understandable why, apart from the Valley of Mexico, Tlaxcala was the first region in Mesoamerica where aboriginal and Spanish cultures began to fuse, initiating the acculturative and syncretic processes that characterized the birth of the Mexican nation, at least with respect to its rural areas. This hybrid culture, which was already in evidence in Tlaxcala by the end of the sixteenth century, might be said to have crystallized by the middle of the seventeenth century. This initial acculturative and syncretic stage lasted until about 1670 (Nutini 1976). By then, Tlaxcalan rural culture and society were no longer either "Spanish" or "Indian" but rather were hybrids composed of diversely acculturized and syncretized traits and

3°

INTRODUCTION

institutions that had developed under the exigencies of religious conversion and economic exploitation. This ethnographic situation persisted for more than two hundred years—that is, until the beginning of industrialization in the Tlaxcala-Pueblan valley during the last two decades of the nineteenth century. This is not to say that culture change did not occur during the second half of the colonial period or during the sixty years of republican experience immediately following it (1670-1880). Rather, the point is that the rate of sociocultural change declined drastically after the first century and a half of the colonial era. Furthermore, it seems that much of the change that occurred during the next two hundred years or so was toward the greater social, economic, and political isolation of the Indian communities. The first of these points may be illustrated by a look at the ethnographic situation of the twenty-one municipios under consideration. In 1885, the population of the more than 100 communities in the region was entirely Indian, with a Nahuatl monolingualism rate of about 70 percent, and with an economic, social, religious, and political structure essentially the same as that at the end of the seventeenth century. When one compares the sociocultural configuration of these communities in the 1880s—when the processes of industrialization and modernization were just beginning—with the sociocultural configuration of about 1940, one sees that much more sociocultural change occurred during that sixty-year period than during the preceding two hundred years. These two centuries were a period of relative equilibrium, during which the Tlaxcalan rural population maintained without basic changes a culture that had already gone through the initial acculturative and syncretic cycles. From the end of the seventeenth century on, one can speak only of acculturative epicycles, or of external influences and diffusion due to economic and political changes and transformations of colonial and, later, republican society. But while the population retained its overwhelmingly Indian character, the rate of individual changes in status from Indian to Mestizo accelerated during this period, primarily as a result of migration to the nearby city of Puebla and other primarily Spanish centers in the Tlaxcala-Pueblan valley. During the republican period, migration from the rural areas extended to other urban centers within and beyond the valley. The present century has witnessed "local mestizoization": the extension of the basically national culture of the urban centers to smaller communities that for several centuries had retained their essentially Indian character (Nutini and Bell 1980:332-347). There were during the two centuries ending in 1880 several nation31

INTRODUCTION

wide economic and political changes that affected but did not essentially change the culture and society of rural Tlaxcala. Among these was the establishment of the system of castas (castes) at the beginning of the eighteenth century, which segregated the different ethnic groups of colonial society and transformed them, at least in theory, into closed "racial" groups. This policy led the Indian population to resist further acculturation, though it had previously begun to open itself to and internalize many aspects of Spanish culture that had not been incorporated in the early acculturative synthesis. The change from encomienda to hacienda as the principal means of harnessing Indian labor had a similar cultural effect; a significant number of Indians lost the relative freedom they had enjoyed in the republicas de indios, as they were forced to settle and remain on haciendas. The last century of the colonial period was thus characterized by a conscious rejection by the Indian population of new elements of Spanish culture and by community isolation as a protective mechanism against outside influences (Nutini and Bell 1980:349-358). This situation explains why the achievement of Mexican independence from Spain in 18 21 was relatively unimportant for the Tlaxcalan Indians and, in fact, for most Indian populations in the viceroyalty. Although with independence the Indians ceased to pay tribute and the legal distinctions among ethnic groups were abolished, the pattern of rejection of the external world by Indian communities was sufficiently strong to counteract the weak efforts that were made in the post-independence period to incorporate the Indian into the national mainstream. Hence, a large number of essentially Indian communities survived in the Tlaxcala-Pueblan valley until the present century. Despite its liberal intentions, the Mexican constitution of 18 5 7 resulted in a still greater growth of haciendas and, concomitantly, in the loss of large amounts of land that had been owned by Indian communities. This change in land tenure in turn brought about both a change in clothing and other symbolic traits that until then had supported the cultural and ethnic identity of the Indian and an acceleration in the rate of passing from Indian to Mestizo status. The beginning of industrialization in the countryside late in the last century, and the upheavals of the Mexican Revolution early in the present century, further eroded the distinctive identity of Indian communities. All these changes notwithstanding, there still remain basically Indian communities in the Tlaxcala-Pueblan valley within a few kilometers of the city of Puebla, with its nearly one million people (Nutini and Bell 1980:358-364). 32

INTRODUCTION

Contemporary Ethnographic Summary The great majority of Indian, transitional, and Mestizo communities in rural Tlaxcala have not been exclusively dependent on agriculture for nearly three decades. The subsistence economy of the typical rural Tlaxcalan community is now a combination of preindustrial peasant agriculture, labor migration, and local cottage industry. The single most important economic factor in the communal life of rural Tlaxcala is an extremely high incidence of wage-labor migration, which has been a feature of the region for sixty years. In every community, there is some type of labor migration (daily, weekly, biweekly, or seasonal), which takes Tlaxcalans to nearby cities in the Tlaxcala-Pueblan valley, to Mexico City, to neighboring states and to several states in northern Mexico, and to the United States. In the context of the mixed economy of rural Tlaxcala, there are three main types of communities: (i) Communities with a fairly balanced economy, in which there is from 50 to 75 percent dependency on local agriculture, supplemented by labor migration and local commerce; about 30 percent of all communities fall into this category. (2) Communities in which agriculture accounts for between 20 and 50 percent of the local economy, which otherwise is dependent on labor migration; this type of community comprises about 65 percent of the total. (3) Communities in which agriculture contributes less than 20 percent to the local economy, the rest coming from cottage industries and labor migration; these are the remaining 5 percent. Given these economic facts, one may characterize the twenty-one municipios comprising the Tlaxcalan heartland as a kind of rural proletariat, but still strongly traditional and with a basically peasant-Indian ideology and world view (Nutini and Isaac 1974:309-321). The nuclear family is the predominant social unit in rural Tlaxcalan society, and the independent nuclear-family household is the most common residential unit. However, the extended-family household, composed of two or more nuclear families related in a variety of ways, has a fairly high incidence in the region. It is difficult to determine the percentage of extended-family households in various communities or the regional differences that may exist, but given the very generalized pattern of patrineolocal residence, it is safe to say that, at any given point in time, between 30 and 40 percent of all households contain some type of extended family. With the exception of one municipio that is organized into patrilineal exogamous clans (Nutini 1968:97170), rural Tlaxcala is a bilateral society; kinsmen are ideally reckoned 33

INTRODUCTION

through both males and females, with no social or economic differentiation. In practice, however, and as a structural standard, rural Tlaxcalan society has a strong patrilineal bias. All effective social units operating at the social and religious levels are structured along patrilineal lines, and the alignment of kinsmen for a variety of purposes shows the same characteristic. Beyond the extended-family household, there are kinship units with varying kinds of social, economic, and religious functions. Among these, the most important is the nonresidential extended family (see Nutini 1968:352-355), followed by largely inoperative egocentric kindreds with moderate collateral extensions and exocentric kindreds defined by common surnames (apellidos). In the great majority of communities, there exist what may be called "intermediate units," standing between the global community, on the one hand, and households and/ or kinship units, on the other. These intermediate units may have not only territorial and residential but also social and religious importance, and even kinship in its wider aspects can be related to them. The most important of these intermediate units is, of course, the barrio, whose origin and historical continuity go back to pre-Hispanic times. Finally, compadrazgo is universal, With the exception of family structure, no other social institution has so uniform and extensive an incidence as compadrazgo at the community and regional levels. In many communities, compadrazgo rivals consanguineal and affinal kinship in terms of importance for community organization and the coordination of a great many activities. In fact, on the basis of the published literature, compadrazgo in rural Tlaxcala exhibits its most complex and diversified expression in Mesoamerica (Nutini and Isaac 1974:335-350; Nutini and Bell 1980:50-194). The religious organization of rural Tlaxcalan communities may be characterized as being primarily of a folk type. Its ritual and ceremonial complex is markedly different from the national Catholic religion of Mexico, and it is carried on by the barrios, mayordomias, hermandades (sodalities), and other less important religious institutions of a syncretic type. Coordinating the ritual and ceremonial life of the community, and as a counterpart of the civil government, there is a body of administrative officials, the fiscales, known collectively as the republica edesiastica (local religious government or ayuntamiento religioso). The importance of the folk elements in the religious organization of the community is enhanced by the fact that not even all cabeceras have resident priests, and all of the more than 150 settlements of the twentyone municipios depend for masses, funerals, baptisms, and other orthodox rites on visiting priests, twenty-nine of whom serve the region. 34

INTRODUCTION

Superficially, the belief system of rural Tlaxcalan communities seems to conform fairly well to orthodox Catholicism. A more careful examination, however, reveals a series of other dimensions that move local beliefs and practices strongly toward the folk end of the folk-orthodox continuum. As might be expected, the greatest departures from Catholic orthodoxy are in the realm of beliefs and supernatural practices, where the religion of the typical community has many aspects that might well be characterized as pagan. While these pagan dimensions sometimes merge with orthodox Catholicism into a truly syncretic complex, more often they form a separate system paralleling orthodox Catholicism and often operating sub rosa. The most prominent of them are witchcraft, sorcery, soul-loss, and belief in a series of anthropomorphic and animistic supernaturals. Sometimes these beliefs and practices are unorganized and vague; sometimes they are well organized and precise and are reinforced by appropriate rituals and ceremonials (Nutini 1968:63-82). They can be classified as follows. (a) Enchanted or especially venerated places, where apparitions occur or wherein supernatural forces that affect the life of the community reside. (b) Sacred objects, such as stone or wooden idols, red stones, black crosses, and certain herbs and plants that are purported to have powers of curing specific illnesses and warding off the devil and evil spirits that may cause illness or even death. (c) Rites and ceremonies performed on a hill, in a field, in the house, in the temazcal (steam bath), and on the hearth. These practices are related to protection, propitiation, and intensification of the spirits of the weather and rain in the agricultural cycle; the causation or cure of bodily states leading to illness or even death; physical and symbolic cleansing; beliefs concerning birth, death, and other occasions in the life cycle; the manifestation of specific illnesses or psychological states such as ataque de espiritus (attack of spirits), mal de ojo (evil eye), and espanto (fright); finding a twin fruit or vegetable; and so on. (d) The concept of mal aire (bad air), or los aires, el aire, yeyecatl, or ehecatl, as it is variously known. This concept is invoked to explain the causes and nature of many illnesses, and it is associated with death, with the "humors" that cadavers exude, and with such animals as toads, frogs, coyotes, and snakes. (e) The concept of perdida del alma (soul loss). The soul may escape the body not only during sleep but also as a result of a bad ataque de espiritus or a severe case of espanto. (f) Apparitions and an extensive complex of spirits associated with 35

INTRODUCTION

them, such as Matlalcihua (spirit of the ravines), La Llorona (The Wailing Woman), El Charro Negro (The Black Cowboy), and La Serpiente Emplumada (The Feathered Serpent). Such animals as donkeys, turkeys, buzzards, crows, and coyotes are associated with these apparitions and spirits. (g) Active spirits, including the spirits of the dead and those associated with nahuales, people who have the power to transform themselves into animals, most commonly donkeys, turkeys, dogs, foxes, and coyotes. (h) Individuals endowed with supernatural powers to cure or inflict illness, do harm in general, influence natural events, foresee the future, etc. These specialists are either born with their powers or acquire them through apprenticeship. The most common in rural Tlaxcala are the tiemperos (conjuradores) or tezitlazcs (weathermen), hechiceros or tetlachihuics (sorcerers), and brujos and brujas or tlahuelpuchis (male and female witches). (i) Anthropomorphically conceived legendary spirits and symbolic owners of hills or mountains, who are often surrounded by elaborate rituals. The best known and most widespread of these in the Tlaxcalan region are La Malintzi, El Cuatlapanga, El Popo, La Izta, and El Penon (Nutini and Isaac 1974:361-365). This extensive complex of beliefs, practices, and supernatural beings is very much a part of the daily life of rural Tlaxcala today. Even in the most regionally oriented, secularized communities, most people continue to believe in the existence of witches and in the power of sorcerers. The complex is fairly well integrated and not necessarily divorced from the folk religion. The pagan system and the folk-Catholic system coexist side by side, sometimes merging at the ritual and ceremonial levels. There are, of course, differences in this interrelationship from community to community, but what is constant is the common ideological basis of the two systems, even where their rituals and ceremonies are kept separate. In conclusion, the culture and society of rural Tlaxcalan communities are curious and often intriguing combinations of traditional and secular elements. The ordinary Tlaxcalan community is well along the road to regional integration, yet there is no political life per se and "political" participation and behavior occur largely in the context of the ayuntamiento religioso, of the mayordomia system, and of kinship and compadrazgo. The community may be appropriately described as a rural proletarian one, yet it continues to funnel a large part of the resources of its mixed subsistence economy into the sponsorship of a 36

INTRODUCTION

great number of religious celebrations and traditional ritual and ceremonial occasions. It has an outward appearance of social and religious modernity, yet kinship and compadrazgo are still important mechanisms of social control, and religious beliefs and practices are laden with pagan content. What is most remarkable about the culture and society of rural Tlaxcalan communities is that this dualism has been a stable feature for more than three decades. Whether it will be adaptive in the presence of stronger secularizing forces from the national culture is questionable, but it is within this still traditional context that the cult of the dead will be analyzed.2

37

•1 · SYNCRETIC BACKGROQND OF TODOS SANTOS: THE SPANISH-CATHOLIC COMPONENT

Inasmuch as the syncretic aspects of Todos Santos have been scarcely more than mentioned in the literature (see Carrasco 19 69:5 9 9; Madsen 1969:636), and its ideological and structural dimensions have not been extensively analyzed within the local and regional contexts (see Tax 1952; Wauchope 1969, vols. 6-8), in this and the following chapter the Spanish-Catholic and pre-Hispanic components of the cult of the dead will be discussed. It is important to have a clear picture of the religious elements that have entered into the syncretic equation of Todos Santos. These elements will be delineated, the social and religious conditions in which they came to interact will be described, and I will advance a few ideas concerning the process that underlay them. The discussion is con­ cerned primarily with rural Tlaxcala, but much of it applies to most re­ gions of Mesoamerica.

T H E ORIGINS OF ALL SAINTS DAY

The feast of All Saints Day and the liturgical celebration of All Souls Day have a long history in Western Christendom. The origins of these occasions in the Christian yearly cycle are uncertain, but by the four­ teenth century they ranked immediately after Christmas and Holy Week in importance, and their celebration had been fixed on Novem­ ber ι for All Saints Day and November 2 (or November 3 if November 2 fell on a Sunday) for All Souls Day (Gaillard 1950:927-932). Since then, these two festivities have been inextricably interrelated in the lit­ urgy of the Western church. At the onset of, perhaps even as a result of, the Reformation and the rise of modern science during the Renais­ sance, there was a significant decline in the ritual and ceremonial un­ derpinnings of Christendom, but in the New World (more precisely, in the Catholic New World) the rites, ceremonies, and symbolic meaning of All Saints Day and All Souls Day have been reinvigorated and in many ways have achieved their maximum elaboration. All Saints Day commemorates those individuals who in the service of the church have attained the rather ambivalent status of "sainthood." Although the transcendentally different natures of the omnipotent-om­ nipresent-almighty God of Christian monotheism and his underlings, 38

TODOS SANTOS: THE SPANISH-CATHOLIC COMPONENT

the saints, may be clearly understood and explained by theologians, this has not been the case for significant segments of practicing Christians since probably the formative period of Christianity between the first and fourth centuries A. D. Indeed, there is plenty of historical evidence that for sizable segments of Christendom the proliferation of saints and their relationship to God have come to look suspiciously like polytheism and have led to practices that are incompatible with monotheism. Moreover, there are anthropologists (Linton and Linton 1950:13-21; Malefijt 1968:355-356; John M. Roberts and L. Keith Brown, personal communication) who maintain that the bulk of Christianity throughout the centuries has been practicing monolatry (or polylatry) and not monotheism—that is, that in behavior (psychologically) and practice (ritually and ceremonially), no transcendental distinction emerges between God and the saints, including the many manifestations of the Virgin Mary. 1 This is certainly the case among traditional Mesoamerican Indians today. Most contemporary Mexican Indians have not internalized the theological distinction between God and the saints, even if they somewhat vaguely understand it, and in their actual religious behavior and practice God is little more than a primus inter pares, a more powerful deity than the many saints and the various forms of the Virgin Mary. Mexican Indians, and often rural Mestizos, often rank the village's patron saint higher than God the Father, God the Son, or God the Holy Ghost, or they center their Catholicism on the cult of the Virgin of Guadalupe, thus in effect abandoning the central tenet of monotheism. Lest readers think that the syncretic nature of Catholicism in this region of the New World is a special case, two examples from other parts of the world may be cited. In their ranking and expressive analysis of the saints as conceived and practiced by Chinese Catholics in Hong Kong, Roberts and Myers (n.d.) found that the array of Catholic supernaturals (God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Ghost, several dozen saints, and half a dozen manifestations of the Virgin Mary) was similar to the Chinese pantheon of gods. The respondents conceived of these Catholic supernaturals as gods who have definite rankings and spheres of action. In many peasant communities in the West as well— in southern Italy, Sicily, and southern Spain—the saints are conceived as deities of sorts, with power in their own right and not infrequently arranged in arrays similar to classical polytheistic pantheons (Carrasco 1970:3-15; Pedro Carrasco and Angel Palerm, personal communication). Whether or not the distinction between God and the saints is understood or explictly made by these subsocieties, the fact remains that, in behavior and practice, these segments of Christendom are prac39

CHAPTER ι

ticing monolatry, not monotheism. Indeed, at least in Catholicism, it may be difficult to be a theologically pure monotheist. The feast of All Saints Day is in a sense democratic, in that it com­ memorates all the saints of God, canonized and uncanonized, known and unknown. It is a rite of propitiation and intensification, in which the church celebrates the external glory of God in the company of those who are closest to his perfection. The origins of the feast are lost, but there are indications that as early as the middle of the fourth century a day was set aside to commemorate the martyrs who had died before Christianity became the official religion of the Roman Empire (Hatch 1978:979). Specifically, May 13 commemorated all the martyrs of Edessa (an important early center of Christianity, now the city of Urfa in southeastern Turkey), and it appears that this date soon spread to the Western Empire. By the early seventh century, most bishoprics in the West celebrated on this day their own and other martyrs of Christen­ dom (Duchesne 1955:120-132). Some scholars doubt that there is a connection between May 13 and November 1, and no one has deter­ mined how and under what conditions a feast of all the saints came to be celebrated on the latter date. Scholars also are not agreed as to when the category of "saint" or the status of "sainthood" appears in Chris­ tian theology and practice (Leies 1963:476). It is safe to assume, how­ ever, that there were no saints, as ritual and ceremonial objects of wor­ ship, until the beginning of the seventh century. It is reasonable to surmise an evolution from martyr to saint, but the social and religious conditions of this transformation and amalgamation are not at all clear (Schmidt 1954:215-243). In any case, by the beginning of the ninth century November 1 was widely celebrated as the day of all martyrs and saints in Western Christendom, and in the latter part of the elev­ enth century, during the papacy of Gregory VII, that date officially became All Saints Day, in the modern sense of the feast (Atwater 1958:15; Henning 1948; McDonald 1967, vol. 1:318-319). Since then, All Saints Day has steadily increased in importance as a ritual oc­ casion in the yearly cycle, and in southern Europe, especially Spain, it developed elaborate proportions beginning in the early fourteenth cen­ tury (Rado 1961:321). 1

ALL SOULS DAY AND ASSOCIATED BELIEFS AND PRACTICES

All Souls Day, November 2, is a liturgical celebration of the Western church commemorating the "faithful departed"—that is, those who have died within the fold of the church. It is observed as a day for hon­ oring and rejoicing with those who are in heaven, offering prayers for 40

TODOS SANTOS: THE SPANISH-CATHOLIC COMPONENT

those who are in purgatory so that they may soon enter the kingdom of heaven, and, in general, supplicating with the dead to watch over the living and thanking them for past intercessions. All Souls Day is a yearly rite of propitiation and thanksgiving and, in the popular conscience, a veritable cult of the dead. Indeed, it is a form of ancestor worship somewhat reminiscent of the old Roman gods of the household, the lares and penates (the feast of Parentalia), from which it probably developed. Among the many organizational, ritual, ceremonial, and symbolic examples of syncretism as Christianity developed out of the confluence of Hebrew monotheism and Roman polytheism, All Souls Day is one of the clearest.3 Until well into the Middle Ages, the church was reluctant to establish a specific liturgical day for propitiating and thanking the dead. The reason for this reluctance was apparently the desire to dissociate the church from the persistent and tenacious preChristian rites and ceremonies of the cult of the dead and ancestors worship, widespread among all branches of Indo-European polytheism, which from the beginning the church regarded as "superstitious" and theologically impure (Maertens and Heuschen 1957:134-156). The efforts of the early church fathers (Augustine, Jerome, Athanasius, Boniface, Chrysostom) to render what they considered a theologically pure monotheism and to eradicate what they regarded as superstitious and heretic remains of the polytheistic past (many aspects of witchcraft and sorcery, rites and ceremonies associated with particular festivities and the cult of certain gods, the cult of the dead itself, and so on) indicates that a significant amalgam of beliefs and practices of the old and new religions already in being. By the beginning of the eighth century, at least in the circum-Mediterranean area, many aspects of Christianity had been significantly syncretized (Schaffler 1947:219). Despite these efforts and the efforts of subsequent theologians, as Christianity spread to more marginal areas of Europe, syncretism has placed a permanent mark on the practice of several aspects of the Christian faith. More than the other two great branches of monotheism (Judaism and Islam), Christianity has been unable to divest itself completely of the polytheistic beliefs and practices out of which it arose. Christian theologians have always insisted on an ideologically pure monotheism, and ever since the church became an imperial force in the middle of the fourth century, it has successfully obliterated any deviations that smacked of polytheism, pantheism, monolatry, and other deviant supernatural conceptions. (It should be noted in passing that, once Christianity became an imperial religion, it successfully resisted any attempts to go back to its folk origins.) Nevertheless, the syncretic aspects of Christianity have manifested themselves in many contexts and seg41

CHAPTER ι

ments of Christian worship, and theologians, sometimes to their em­ barrassment, have had to accommodate rituals, beliefs, and behaviors with a distinctly polytheistic, pantheistic, or monolatrous character within a strict monotheistic ideology (Leies 1963:389-403). The often marked dichotomy between theology and practice appears to be a con­ stant from Christianity's folk beginnings to its imperial maturity during the first half of the sixteenth century. As the ritual and ceremonial core of Christianity in the West began to wane, and religion more and more began to resemble a kind of moral philosophy, as a result of the Ref­ ormation, the rise of science, and the general secularizing trends that these processes engendered, the dichotomy tended to disappear. In sev­ eral areas of the New World, however, it persisted and was even wid­ ened by the new syncretic transformation that Catholicism experienced in its confrontation with several full-fledged polytheistic systems. Although prayers for the dead were encouraged from earliest times, the church, for the reasons given above, was slow in giving liturgical recognition to the rites and ceremonies concerning the dead that prob­ ably had been going on for centuries in many parts of Christendom. However, Pentecost Monday was dedicated to the worship of the dead in Spain by the middle of the seventh century. For reasons that are not known, November 2 was set aside for the commemoration of All Souls Day, a practice that was well established in the Cluniac monasteries in northern France by the middle of the eleventh century and throughout the Western church, by the turn of the twelfth century—that is, not long after November 1 had officially become All Saints Day (Kellner 1908:326-331). Unlike All Saints Day, however, All Souls Day never acquired official liturgical status—further evidence that the church was unwilling to formally sanction a celebration so pregnant with pagan elements and unchristian evocations. All Souls Day came to have litur­ gical status only by custom. Nonetheless, by the second half of the fif­ teenth century All Saints Day and All Souls Day were liturgical feasts celebrated as a unit and ranked among the three or four most important occasions in the yearly ritual cycle of Western Christendom (Kellner 1908:348-351). What the church was up against throughout the Dark and Middle Ages is well known; the situation has been replicated several times dur­ ing the past five hundred years in the context of the expansion of West­ ern European peoples throughout the world, and it is best exemplified in the ethnohistorical record of the spiritual conquest of Mesoamerica and the Andean area. With specific reference to All Souls Day (but equally applicable to a number of other Christian domains), many be­ liefs and practices of pagan origins or corruptions of orthodox Chris42

TODOS SANTOS: THE SPANISH-CATHOLIC COMPONENT

tian beliefs concerning the dead were associated with this celebration and ancillary concerns. Throughout Western Christendom, these beliefs and practices survived at most levels until well into the sixteenth century. With the onset of secularization in Western society, they were displaced to marginal areas and to the lower levels of the social order, but they can still be found in the most traditional folk communities in the circum-Mediterranean area and perhaps in other parts of Europe. Among the best-known beliefs and practices that were associated with the All Souls Day complex and were relevant to a cult of the dead, the following may be mentioned: during the vigil of November z, the souls in heaven came back in spirit to bless the households where they had died. On November 2, the souls in purgatory came back in the form of phantoms, witches, and toads, lizards, and other repellant animals in order to scare or harm persons who had wronged or injured them during their lives. Food offerings were made to the dead in the cemeteries, ritually disposed of by those concerned after the souls had symbolically tasted the food. Special food offerings were made to prominent departed members of the household, consisting of a dish or a drink that he or she had particularly liked. Garments that had been worn by particularly good or pious members of the household were displayed on the family altar, so that the souls would rejoice upon contemplating such a display of affection and become effective protectors of their living kinsmen. The way to the house was marked by recognizable signposts of flowers or other decorations, so that the returning souls could the more easily find their earthly homes (Maertens and Heuschen 1957:161-163). This veritable cult of the dead during the Dark and Middle Ages had probably changed little since Roman times. All Saints Day, on the other hand, was rather heavily influenced by northern Indo-European polytheism and by the liturgical feasts of the Byzantine (Orthodox, Armenian) and Coptic churches, which in turn were undoubtedly influenced by other Near Eastern polytheistic systems. Both the Germantic and Celtic traditions, particularly the latter, celebrated in the late autumn a complex of rites and activities associated with the end of the harvest and the impending arrival of winter and intended to honor the gods of agriculture and the natural elements. During the process of conversion to Christianity, the church condemned this complex as dealing with the devil and dabbling in witchcraft and sorcery. In the British Isles, this was the celebration of Samhain, which has survived among English- and Gaelic-speaking peoples and is variously known as Hallow E'en, Allhallows, Hallowmas, and, most commonly today, Halloween. Probably by the middle of the fifteenth century, Halloween had coalesced as a syncretic component of 43

CHAPTER ι

English, Irish, Scottish, and Welsh Catholicism. By that time, the high point of the celebration was the vigil of All Saints Day, and since then Halloween has been intimately associated with this liturgical feast as well as with All Souls Day. The Protestant Reformation kept the cele­ bration of All Saints Day, but for several reasons (most significantly, the denial of the belief in purgatory) it abolished the feast of All Souls Day. With the increasing secularization of northern European societies, the Halloween-All Saints Day complex was transformed into what it is today, a secular feast. In many parts of northern Europe, however, the church was never able to stamp out completely many pagan beliefs and practices associated with regional complexes that were instrumental in shaping the combined liturgical celebrations of All Saints Day and All Souls Day. Thus, even today, from Ireland to Russia, the ethnographer or folklorist finds survivals of these beliefs and practices (related mainly to food, drink, and special rites performed in the household and/or the cemetery) among peasants and rural folk (Linton and Linton 1950:1621; Wright 1940:107-120). The syncretic background of All Saints Day in the Byzantine church is not well known, and still less is that of the Coptic church. However, the contemporary celebration of All Saints Day and All Souls Day in the East indicates that syncretism there was perhaps more influenced by pagan elements than in the West. The celebration in the Greek and Ar­ menian churches appears to be more diversified and exhibits more traits of early Christian origin than is the case in the Western churches. The Eastern churches celebrate All Souls Day on several different dates: the Greek church, on the Saturday before Sexagesima Sunday (the sec­ ond Sunday before Lent); the Armenian Church, on Easter Monday (as in Spain in the seventh century). The most interesting celebration of All Souls Day is found in the Syrian-Antiochene church: on the Friday be­ fore Septuagesima (the third Sunday before Lent), dead priests are hon­ ored; on the Friday before Sexagesima, all the blessed souls in heaven and purgatory are worshipped; and on the Friday before Quinquagesima (the first Sunday before Lent), all those who have died away from home and parents and friends are remembered (Weiser 1956:121-136). An even more elaborate division of labor in the celebration of All Souls Day is present in rural Tlaxcala (see chapters 5 and 10), and perhaps there is a connection with the Syrian-Antiochene rites, although it may be simply a continuation of pre-Hispanic practices. It is probably in southern Italy and Spain that the celebration of the combined feasts of All Saints Day and All Souls Day acquired its most complex and elaborate form. In Spain, this may be attributable to the Christian reconquest of Spain from the Moors in particular, and Mos-

44

TODOS SANTOS: THE SPANISH-CATHOLIC COMPONENT

lem inputs in general, but the evidence is not conclusive. It is quite certain, however, that the Dominican order was instrumental in enhancing the importance of All Saints Day-All Souls Day during the fifteenth century. For example, the Dominicans initiated the custom of having each priest celebrate three masses for the eternal glory and rest of the faithful departed on All Souls Day. This action gained quick acceptance throughout Spain, and All Souls Day eventually became ritually more important than All Saints Day (McDonald 1967, vol. 3:319). (This apparently never happened in any other country of Western Europe, and even in Spain the primacy of All Saints Day appears to have been reestablished by the early eighteenth century.) By the beginning of the sixteenth century, and perhaps for two or three generations before that, the combined celebration of All Saints Day and All Souls Day in Spain was commonly referred to as Todos Santos. This combined liturgical feast had become increasingly important and ranked just below Christmas and Holy Week in the yearly ritual cycle of Spanish Catholicism, popularly if not theologically. It was in this form that Todos Santos was introduced in New Spain by the Franciscan, Dominican, and Augustinian friars in the first half of the sixteenth century, and All Souls Day has remained until the present the most ritually significant of the two days at most levels of Mexican and Guatemalan society. It is most likely that Todos Santos was similarly introduced in most other areas of the Catholic New World, but it evidently underwent a different evolution, for in probably most Central and South American countries, Todos Santos is centered on All Saints Day, the officially recognized and theologically purer liturgical feast.

T H E EVOLUTION OF THE CULT OF THE SAINTS

A brief account of the theological antecedents and evolutionary transformations of the Todos Santos complex is necessary in order to introduce the concept of intercession and to show that, in the development of Christianity, what theology has dictated has often been discharged behaviorally by the rank and file of worshippers in unorthodox, sometimes pagan, fashion. Modern scholarship has been rather polarized concerning the conception of the cult of the saints and its place in Christianity. On the one hand, secular scholars have maintained that the cult of the saints is little more than polytheism in disguise, and they have rather unsystematically identified and equated Greco-Roman gods and supernatural personages with Christian saints: Saint Pelagia as the Christian continuation of Aphrodite, Saints Cosmas and Damian as the embodiment of 45

CHAPTER ι

Castor and Pollux, and so on. (Mesoamerican anthropologists, myself included, have done something similar, but more systematically and on the basis of more concrete data, in their equations of Christian saints with pre-Hispanic gods in the period following the Spanish Conquest; see Nutini 1976.) On the other hand, religious scholars (mostly Cath­ olic) have insisted that there are no significant polytheistic inputs in the development of Christianity and that the church has maintained a pure form of monotheism since the time of Origen, although they have often conceded that "crude and vulgar" people may have at times perverted this pristine doctrine (Molinari 1962:32-76). There is merit in both these positions, and the following analysis is an attempt to reconcile them, to the extent that they represent complementary standpoints. This analysis is admittedly tentative, and it is intended to arouse an­ thropological curiosity in the solution of a problem of syncretism. The religious concepts or categories of saint and martyr are by no means exclusively Christian. They appear in the polytheistic religious traditions of India, China, Persia, and other lands. Rather surprisingly, however, they were absent or minimal in Greco-Roman polytheism and apparently in all variants of Western Indo-European polytheism. Their immediate progenitors in the development of Christianity were apparently Judaic. It is impossible to pinpoint exactly when the first martyrs to have died for the Christian faith were invoked, but as early as the martyrdom of Saint Polycarp, in the second half of the second century, lists of martyrs began to be kept in many cities of the Roman Empire. Initially, these lists were apparently local. Probably not until the second half of the third century or early in the fourth century did a cult of the most famous martyrs become widespread in the empire, and from that point onward one can speak of a generalized, somewhat structured cult of the martyrs (Molinari 1962:79-87). If the concept of the martyr was Judaic, the attributes with which it was endowed were not. Rather, the characteristics and ritual ambiance of the personage appear to have been entirely Greek and Roman, de­ rived from the cult of the lares and penates, practices commemorating the illustrious dead, commensal ceremonies and celebrations associ­ ated with the dead, legendary accounts of the death of illustrious per­ sonages, and so on. By the middle of the fifth century, the practice of celebrating the anniversary of the martyr's death (symbolically the "birthday," deis natalis, of the martyr into the eternal glory of God) was well established, and with it came other practices such as the erec­ tion of a sanctuary or place of worship where the death of the martyr had taken place, pilgrimages to the spot, and memorial celebrations (commensal banquets, prayers, singing). By the end of that century, the 46

TODOS SANTOS: THE SPANISH-CATHOLIC COMPONENT

cult of the martyrs was a significant aspect of the church, and worship of martyrs throughout the empire was undoubtedly a unifying force of early Christendom (Molinari 1962:1x3-146; Weiser 1956:275-285; Henning 1948). Most scholars agree that the concept of saint emerged as an extension of that of martyr early in the sixth century, when all notable martyrs were being referred to as saints—that is, as deserving the adjective sanctus, beatus, or some other honorific appelation. In the Middle Ages, the church regularized the usage of these terms and the personages to whom they applied, as for example, Saint Melania, Saint Cyprian, Saint Stephen, and Saint Sebastian. It is also likely that at about this time, Christ's original apostles, Saint John the Baptist, and other personages of the Old and New Testaments, such as the archangels, began to be referred to as saints—that is, according to the theological connotation and denotation of the term, as individuals who gave their lives for the faith {confessores fidei), manifested the emergence and human realization of Christ, and/or led perfect Christian lives. This categorization included many of the early church fathers (Saint Augustine, Saint Athanasius, Saint Jerome, and others) and a large roster of individuals who, although not martrys, had led exemplary lives about which accounts and legends had almost invariably been woven. Legendary accounts, in fact, constituted one of the salient aspects of martyrdom and sainthood leading to the formation of cults, and it would now be impossible to disentangle what is historical and what is legendary. From the sixth to the tenth centuries, the rosters and calendars of saints were greatly increased, but the institution or proclamation of a saint was almost invariably by vox populi. Tradition was then sanctioned by the church, perhaps even fostered as a means of generating unity and ritual devotion and as a rallying point of local congregations, which ultimately exported their local cults to other regions as expressions of competitive pride. It was not until the end of the tenth century that the canonization of saints in more or less the modern sense of the term (that is, as the culmination of a rigorous examination of a person's life and deeds to determine whether the status of sanctus was warranted) was established. The first canonization of a saint of which we have historical evidence is that of Udalricus in 973, and soon after that the procedures for canonization became more standardized and were placed exclusively in the hands of the pope or local bishops. The reason for this change in the process was the increasing control over local and regional hierarchies and the expressed opinion of prelates that the proliferation of saints was getting out of hand. Nonetheless, this prolifer47

CHAPTER ι

ation, of both canonized and popular saints, continued throughout the Middle Ages until the Reformation, after which it was limited to those areas of Christendom dominated by Catholicism. It is probably in the course of Christianity's expansion to the Celtic, Germanic, and Slavic populations of Europe, primarily from the seventh to the eleventh cen­ turies, that the largest number of saints came into being reflecting the Christian conception of sainthood as it interacted with non-Mediter­ ranean, Indo-European polytheistic personages and beliefs: the identi­ fication of local gods with saintly personages, the incorporation of pa­ gan legends and myths into the lives of saints, and the reinterpretation of beliefs and practices in the context of particular cults (Hastings 1951, vol. 9:52-55; McDonald 1967, vol. 12:962-965; Henning 1948). The cult of the martyrs and saints owes its existence partly to the conditions under which Judeo-Christian monotheism existed in the in­ itially hostile environment of Greco-Roman polytheism. Syncretic re­ ligious growth (and Christianity is an essentially syncretic religion) is characterized by compromise. The Christian minority, particularly its clerical hierarchy, found it necessary, during the first three centuries of formation, to compromise with the non-Christian, polytheistic major­ ity, thereby tinging, and sometimes strongly coloring, the new religion with many elements of external derivation. One can easily imagine that Origen, Saint Augustine, and Saint Jerome would have preferred, as in­ deed they advocated in their writings, the practice of Christianity with­ out a cult of the saints. But, as has happened many times since, as Chris­ tian monotheism encountered other systems, its pure theological conception of the deity was compromised with the deep-seated beliefs and practices of others in the efforts of the church to make converts. (It is not clear why this policy of accommodation to previously existing religious conditions apparently did not obtain in the rise and spread of Islam, the practice of which has evolved into a more monotheistic sys­ tem than that of Christianity.) Another factor that made early Christianity susceptible to nonmonotheistic interpretations was the concept of a holy trinity, added to that of a human, reincarnated, redemptive savior. It is unequivocally clear that the official doctrine of the church has never deviated from strict monotheism. From Saint Augustine, who first addressed the problem, to modern theologians, the distinction has been clearly made between the adoration of God as an omnipotent, omnipresent, almighty entity (latria) and honoring the saints as his exemplary servants (dulia). In­ deed, when, after the Reformation, Marianism became an important aspect of Catholic practice, the cult of the Virgin Mary was character48

TODOS SANTOS: THE SPANISH-CATHOLIC COMPONENT

ized as entailing hyperdulia, but not latria, to allay fears that she was in any way divine (Hastings 1951, vol. 3:56-59; Weiser 1956:282.-285, Rado 1961, vol. 2:27-35). B u t while theologians, the priesthood, and the enlightened and educated segment of the laity (a very small proportion of worshippers until modern times) may have adhered to a pure monotheism, this was not the case with the majority of congregations where Christianity has thrived up until the last two centuries. Christianity's encounter with countless different peoples and their religions has produced local versions of the faith with varying degrees of monotheistic purity, behaviorally if not theologically. Rural Tiaxcalan religion, until a generation ago (i960), is one such version, in which the distinction between latria and dulia has not been internalized and in which belief and practice do not conform to strict Christian doctrine but reflect decidedly polytheistic influences. The cult of the saints was accompanied by the emergence of the concept of intercession: the belief that those who die for the faith and those who lead exemplary lives, because of their closeness to God in the afterlife, are both a means to the worship of God and advocates in entreating God to grant individual or public favors and requests. Again, the earliest theologians, like those of today, clearly specified that the saints are only a means to an end, an appropriate form of adoring and worshipping God. Almost invariably, theologians have advised against abusing the intercessory attributes of the saints to ask God for favors and boons. How closely these theological injunctions were obeyed by the believers is impossible to say, but it does appear that by the time canonization was instituted in the effort to halt the proliferation of saints, the confusion of latria and dulia was already firmly entrenched behaviorally. Indeed, the proliferation of saints can perhaps be explained by their worship by the Christian masses as ends in themselves—that is, as possessing power of their own to grant favors and boons. Since that time, every age has had its theological watchdogs who have complained about the often widespread practice of monolatry among Catholic worshippers, in the form of the cult of the saints (Molinari 1962:167-213; Gaillard 1950:933-987; Maertens and Heuschen 1957:211-234). (There appear to be no studies of how theologians in Protestant lands have dealt with the cult of the saints.) Related to the concept of intercession is that of patronage, which has been conceived theologically as one aspect of intercession (a concomitant of dulia) and in folk tradition as the powers of the saints themselves (a concomitant of latria). The concept appeared at least as early as the fourth century, but again it was not sanctioned by the church until late in the tenth century. Patronage probably had its inception in the 49

CHAPTER ι

practice of giving infants the names of the most prominent saints, such as Peter, Paul, and John, the idea being that the person came under the protection of the saint after which he or she had been named. The next stage in this evolutionary process was the designation of saints as the "guardians" of parishes, dioceses, ecclesiastical provinces, and reli­ gious communities such as monasteries and convents. By the late elev­ enth or early twelfth century, the practice had been extended to vil­ lages, towns, cities, regions, states, and nations. Elaborate rites and ceremonies arose around the cult of patron saints, who were regarded as protectors and rallying points of community action. The final stage came during the Middle Ages, when saintly patronage was extended to individual and collective activities, occasions, and institutions. By the end of the fifteenth century, there were hundreds of patron saints, pro­ tectors of practically every significant social, religious, and economic activity and occasion: Saint Valentine, patron saint of lovers; Saint Isi­ dore (in Spain) and Saint Lawrence (in Italy), patron saints of rain and the weather; Saint Barbara, patron saint of those handling firearms and of those in other dangerous professions; Saint Clare, patron saint of glassworkers; Saint Anthony, patron saint of lost things; Saint Lugarda, patron saint of childbirth; and so on. By the beginning of the Renaissance, an enormous and complicated system of institutions, places, and relations had been woven about saintly patronage, which included sanctuaries, pilgrimages, dealing in relics, pictorial repre­ sentations of saints and an accompanying iconology, and a complex network of socioreligious and economic relations. By the sixteenth century, this system had become corrupt, ridden with venality and si­ mony, and it was one of the principal forces leading to the Reformation (Saintyves 1917:65-79; Delehaye 1933:218-253). It is noteworthy that the cult of the martyrs and saints appeared ear­ lier in the evolution of Christianity than the cult of the dead and saintly patronage, at least as far as theological recognition is concerned. In ex­ planation of this temporal sequence, I would hypothesize that the cult of the martyrs and saints represents essentially Judeo-Christian inputs, which, influenced by Greco-Roman polytheistic elements, coalesced rather early as syncretic entities, because they were not so obviously charged with pagan meaning as to present a direct threat to the integ­ rity of monotheism. The cult of the dead and saintly patronage, on the other hand, represents primarily Greco-Roman (and later Celtic, Ger­ manic, and Slavic) inputs and were so charged with polytheistic content that no syncretic synthesis could coalesce and the church hierarchy openly opposed them. Thus, the cult of the dead and saintly patronage (more precisely, perhaps, the cult of pagan supernatural patronage) 50

TODOS SANTOS: THE SPANISH-CATHOLIC COMPONENT

thrived sub rosa (probably together with witchcraft and sorcery) from the third to the tenth centuries, while the cult of the martyrs and saints was being formally structured. The cult of the dead then began to syncretize and acquired the trappings of the cult of the saints, and saintly patronage became the attribute of individual saints, who came to replace pagan supernaturals. This syncretic process took place as the pagan ambiance of beliefs and practices receded (first in the circum-Mediterranean area, and then successively in the Celtic, Germanic, and Slavic areas of Europe) and the church managed to achieve a greater degree of control, theologically and practically. A body of data is available for testing this hypothesis as well as many others that could be formulated concerning the theological, liturgical, and ritual evolution of Christianity. Finally, there is no doubt that the evolution of Christianity has been a series of syncretic cycles and epicyles that awaits clear description. The concept of syncretism is latently present in the major monographs dealing with either specific or general domains in this evolution. Occasionally, the concept is even made explicit, usually exegetically or apologetically, but rarely are attempts made to bring order into the enormous mass of material by adopting a systematic form of analysis. The syncretic focus is probably one of the best approaches for the scientific, historical study of religion. Unfortunately, no systematic model for such an approach has been formulated by anthropologists, sociologists, or church scholars. Indeed, the closest to a syncretic model for the study of religious phenomena is presented in this monograph, in a preliminary operationalized form. The attentive reader will find that the foregoing outline of the Christian cult of the saints has many analogies and homologies with the cult of the dead in rural Tlaxcala since the Spanish Conquest. Three examples should suffice to substantiate this point: (i) The administrative and hierarchical organization of the early Christian church in its adoption and adaptation of the personnel and the judicial superstructure of the Roman state and religion is the structural equivalent of the formation of local religious government in Mesoamerica—different in scale to be sure, but analogously and homologously similar. The most important structural difference is that, in the early Christian case, the Judaic component was rather minimal and the final syncretic product was thus quite asymmetric, while in the case of Mesoamerica, the pre-Hispanic and Spanish-Catholic components were both well represented and the final syncretic synthesis was less asymmetrical (see conclusions). 51

CHAPTER ι

(z) Guided syncretism is one of the three or four main variants of the syncretic focus. During the first seven centuries of Christianity, there were many admonitions, instructions, and policies emanating from bishops and other prelates that can only be interpreted as guided syn­ cretism—e.g., the instructions issued by Pope Gregory I in 601 to the missionaries in England: "Let the shrines of idols by no means be de­ stroyed but let the idols which are in them be destroyed. Let water be consecrated and sprinkled in these temples. . . . so that the people, not seeing their temples destroyed may displace error. . . And because they were wont to sacrifice oxen to devils, some celebration should be given in exchange for this . . . they should celebrate a religious feast and wor­ ship God by their feasting, so that still keeping outward pleasures, they may more readily receive spiritual joys" (Bede 1965:76). This instruc­ tion is similar to the policy followed by the Franciscan friars in Tlaxcala during the period immediately following the Spanish Conquest (Nutini and Bell 1980:287-294). Guided syncretism (softening the often harsh or traumatic process of conversion by finding real or imagined conver­ gences in the interacting religious traditions, or making ritual, liturgi­ cal, or doctrinal concessions for the sake of rapid conversion) are thus present, in essentially the same form, in seventh-century England and sixteenth-century Mexico (see Nutini 1976:309-316). (3) The development of the saints into patrons of social groupings or activities in the early Middle Ages is strikingly similar to the develop­ ment of communal patron saints in Mesoamerica under the leadership of the mendicant friars. The syncretic subterfuges (sometimes guided, sometimes spontaneous), the symbolic manipulations, and the physical or even demographic identification of saints as patrons of communities, regions, or provinces were the same in, say, the case of Italian mission­ aries in eleventh-century Poland as in the case of the Franciscans in six­ teenth-century Tlaxcala (see Nutini and Bell 1980:288-294). There is a continuous syncretic thread in the development of Chris­ tianity from its beginnings to its imperial maturity. The overall config­ uration of this process has not been attempted. If it is too gigantic a task to be undertaken all at once, the present monograph may be regarded as a contribution to its gradual accomplishment. This chapter has pre­ sented the main tenets and general development of the Christian cult of the saints and the dead; the details of the interaction of the SpanishCatholic component of All Saints Day and All Souls Day with the na­ tive Mesoamerican elements will be discussed in chapters 5-8. Prior to that, the pre-Hispanic components must be described and analyzed, and that is what will be done in the next chapter.

52

• 2· SYNCRETIC BACKGROUND OF THE CULT OF THE DEAD: THE PRE-HISPANIC COMPONENT

When the Spaniards arrived in Mexico in 1519, they found a polytheistic religion extending throughout the area that in the twentieth century came to be known archeologically and ethnologically as Mesoamerica. Mesoamerica was an area of high culture, where the civilization of the New World achieved probably its highest expression. This is certainly the case in the domains of science and religion. A sophisticated calendrical system, the mathematical concept of zero, and a highly complex polytheistic pantheon of supernaturals were the triumphs of Mesoamerican culture, significantly more advanced than Old World cultures at a similar stage of technological development. In pre-Hispanic times, Mesoamerica was never unified into a single political unit. Rather, it was divided into a number of city-states or ceremonial-center states. Sometimes two, three, or four of these units formed alliances (for example, the Triple Alliance, the so-called Aztec "empire" which was in being at the arrival of the Spaniards under Cortes) with a minimal degree of cohesion and centralization. However, Mesoamerica did exhibit a rather high degree of cultural uniformity, especially in the realm of religion. There were regional variations, to be sure, but they were small, and we can thus speak of a panMesoamerican religion.

T H E CULT OF THE DEAD AND ANCESTOR WORSHIP

The main characteristics of this polytheistic system were the following: i. A highly diversified and specialized pantheon, in which hundreds of patron gods and goddesses for practically every human activity, natural phenomenon, and social grouping were arranged in a somewhat hierarchical order z. A very complex and extensive ritual and ceremonial yearly cycle regulated by a calendrical system 3. A sophisticated cosmology and theology centered on the origins and nature of the gods, the creation of man and the universe, the regulation of man's relationship to the gods, the destination of the dead, and the afterlife 4. A religious ideology that emphasized pragmatism in the relation53

CHAPTER 2

ship between man and the supernatural at the expense of values and morality, which were almost exclusively an aspect of the social structure in operation 5. An extensive and well-organized priesthood in charge of the administration of religion and several ancillary aspects of the social structure 6. A tremendous emphasis on human sacrifices to the gods and a significant degree of ritual cannibalism 7. A pronounced concern with bloodshed and the dead, and a cult of the dead approaching ancestor worship 1 Mesoamerican religion pervaded every significant cultural domain of the city-state or ceremonial-center state: the social, the economic, the political, the administrative, and the military (Carrasco 1976:235z 5 7). Indeed, as Caso (1945:82.) has remarked, religion was the driving force of Mesoamerican culture. Yet in many ways, Mesoamerican religion was not very different from such polytheistic systems as those of Indo-Europeans or of India and China: the gods were cast in human images, and they exhibited the foibles, virtues, and vices of human beings; they were hierarchically arranged in an organized pantheon; religion was essentially a pragmatic ritualistic system regulating the relationship between the human and the supernatural orders; the social structure of the gods mirrored that of ordinary humans, with whom they interacted in a variety of forms; and so on. In fact, Kirchhoff (1964a, 1964b) maintained that Mesoamerican polytheism was not an indigenous development, but rather that it had diffused from the Old World, at least in embryonic form, and probably from Southeast Asia. This diffusion is almost impossible to prove scientifically (see Caso 1964:29-35), but Kirchhoff (1964a) has demonstrated a number of structural similarities among the Chinese, Javanese, Hindu, and Mesoamerican pantheons and the correspondences and correlations of the gods. 1 In any case, and regardless of whether Mesoamerican polytheism was an indigenous development or was diffused from the Old World, it is important to keep in mind its similarities to Indo-European and Near Eastern polytheism, out of which Christianity arose. Mesoamerican religion exhibited a pronounced concern with the dead. The belief system specified the destination of the dead, the nature of the afterlife, and the relationship between the living and the dead. There was a significant amount of ritual and ceremonial activity surrounding the dead and what they meant for the living, but whether this amounted to ancestor worship depends, of course, on one's definition of this religious practice. Unquestionably, however, the Mesoamerican cult of the dead was more intense than the Catholic cult of the dead that 54

THE CULT OF THE DEAD: THE PRE-HISPANIC COMPONENT

was introduced in New Spain by the mendicant friars. The two com­ plexes reached their ritual and ceremonial peak within two months of each other (including a sort of pre-Hispanic analogue of All Saints Day, as will be pointed out below) and had roughly equivalent symbolic, propitiatory, and intensifying functions. Describing the ritual and ceremonial activities during the thirteenth month, Tepeilhuitl, of the calendar 3 of the Anahuac (Central Mexican highlands), the Franciscan friar, Sahagun (1956, vol. 1:12.5) s a y s : Hacian a honra de los montes unas culebras de palo ο de raices de arboles, y labrdbanles la cabeza como culebra; hacian tambien unos trozos de palo gruesos como la muneca, largos, llamabanlos ecatotonti; asi a estos como a las culebras los investian con aquella masa que llaman tzoal: a estos trozos los investian a manera de montes, arriba les ponian su cabeza, como cabeza de persona; ha­ cian tambien estas imagenes en memoria de aquellos que se habian ahogado en el agua, ο habian muerto de tal muerte que no los quemaban sino que los enterraban. Despues que con muchas ceremonias habian puesto en sus altares a las imagenes dichas, ofrecianles tambien tamales y otras comidas, y tambien les decian cantares de sus loores y bebian vino por su honra. (In honor of the mountains they used to manufacture snakes made of wood or tree roots and carved the heads in the shape of snakes; they also made long wooden sections as thick as one's wrist, which they called ecatotonti. Both the snakes and the wooden sections they covered with that dough they call tzoal, while the latter they dressed to resemble mountains topped by a carved head in human form. They also made these images in memory of people who had drowned or had died in such a fashion that they did not cremate but buried them. After having placed these images on their family altars with great ceremony, they offered them tamales and other foods, and they also sang their praises and drank wine in their honor.) Later, returning to the description of the festivities and sacrifices of Te­ peilhuitl, Sahagun (1956, vol. i:zoo) writes: Tambien a las imagenes de los muertos les ponian sobre aquellas roscas de zacate, y luego en amaneciendo ponian estas imagenes en sus oratorios, sobre unos lechos de espadanas ο de juncias ο juncos; habiendolos puesto alii luego les ofrecian comida, tamales y mazamorra, ο cazuela hecha de gallina ο de came de perro, y luego 55

CHAPTER 2

los incensaban echando incienso en una mano de barro cocido, como cuchara grande llena de brasas, y a esta ceremonia llamaban calonoac. Y los ricos cantaban y bebian pulcre a honra de estos dioses y de sus difuntos: los pobres no hacian mas que ofrecereles comida, como se dijo. (They also used to place the images of the dead on those grass wreaths. Then at dawn they put these images in their shrines, on top of beds of reed mace, sedge, or rush. Once the images were placed there, they offered them food, tamales, and gruel, or a stew made of chicken [turkey] or dog's meat. Then they offered the images incense from an incense burner, which was a big cup full of coals, and this ceremony they called calonoac. And the rich sang and drank pulcre [fermented agave juice] in honor of these gods and their dead, while the poor offered them only food, as has been mentioned.) Describing the origin of idolatry and the cult of the dead in the preHispanic Tlaxcalan confederacy, the sixteenth-century Mestizo historian Munoz Camargo (1948:153) says: "Las personas de mucho valor comenzaron a hacer estatuas a los hombres de cuenta que morian, y como dejaban casos y hechos memorables en pro de la Republica, les hacian estatuas en memoria de sus buenos y famosos hechos; despues los adoraban por dioses." (Prominent men began to make statues of distinguished individuals who died and whose memorable exploits and deeds benefited the Republic. The statues were a testimonial to their good and famous deeds. In time they came to be worshipped as gods.) This could be interpreted as a case of ancestor worship, but it is not at all clear that the pre-Hispanic Tlaxcalans did practice full-fledged ancestor worship. Munoz Camargo's assertion is not corroborated by any other ethnohistorical sources of the sixteenth century, the information for which was gathered mostly in the Valley of Mexico and the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley. There is no question that the Tlaxcalans, like most peoples in Mesoamerica, emphasized the cult of the dead, but that did not necessarily amount to ancestor worship as a significant component of their religion. It seems likely, rather, that Munoz Camargo was exaggerating and misinterpreting the deification of the dead in Tlaxcalan religion. He was the son of a Spanish conquistador and a Tlaxcalan Indian woman of probably noble extraction (Gibson 1950). As a "new Christian," he wanted to be more Catholic than the pope, and so he may have exaggerated the pagan practices of the Indians' pre-Hispanic past in order to make them appear the more abhorrent. This is evident in 56

THE CULT OF THE DEAD: THE PRE-HISPANIC COMPONENT

what he had to say (Munoz Camargo 1948:153) concerning the consumption of human flesh, in the same paragraph in which he described ancestor worship: "y ansi fue tomando fuerza el demonio para mas deveras arraigarse entre gentes tan simples y de poco talento; y despues las pasiones que entre los unos y los otros ovo, comenzaron a comerse sus propias carnes por vengarse de sus enemigos, y ansi rabiosamente entraron poco a poco, hasta que se convirtio en costumbre comerse unos i. otros como demonios: y ansi habia carnicerias publicas de came humana, como si fueran de vaca y carnero como el dia de hoy las hay." (And thus the devil became stronger in order to truly take root among such simple and untalented people. And the passions that existed among themselves led them to eat their own flesh in order to take vengeance upon their enemies, and madly the practice gradually became the custom of eating each other like demons. Thus, there were public butcher shops [or slaughters] of human flesh, as there are of beef and mutton today.)'' No serious scholar (except Eulalia Guzman) has ever denied that the ancient Mesoamericans practice ritual cannibalism, the kind of cannibalism out of which Christian communion likely developed and which was probably practiced in Mesopotamia well into the period of the urban revolution, when an impersonator of the patron god of the city was ritually eaten by part of the congregation (Hastings 1951, vol. 3:204205 and vol. 6:862-864; Frazer 1935, vol. 8:325; see also Childe 1942:72-73, 108-109; Sagan 1974:108-109). But there is no persuasive evidence that Mesoamerican civilizations practiced gastronomic cannibalism. Munoz Camargo's statement is not the only one made in the sixteenth century that suggested the practice of gastronomic cannibalism among Mesoamerican peoples; similar statements were made by the Spanish friars Sahagun (1956, vol. 1:111, 125, 139, 143, 201), Motolinia (1903:59, 62, 78; 1969:20, 33, 35, 47), and Duran (1967, vol. 1:64, 68,108,130,140, 256, 271; vol. 2:145,194, 415, 483), but these, too, can be attributed to bias. Nevertheless, such statements were then repeated by secondary colonial writers, such as Herrera (1947, vol. 5:113-114) and by modern scholars, such as Prescott (1880, vol. 1:81-87), and constitute the dubious basis for the efforts by some contemporary anthropologists to explain pre-Hispanic ritual cannibalism as a significant source of protein for Mesoamerican peoples (see Ortiz de Montellano 1978; Price 1978; Sahlins 1978; Harris 1977:97-110 and 1979:334-340; Harner 1977). Sahagun's description of the cult of the dead on the eve of the Spanish Conquest is much more complete than Munoz Camargo's and more reliable as well; indeed, despite the statements cited above, his thor57

CHAPTER 2

oughness, reliability, and objectivity single him out among the sixteenth-century scholars who wrote about pre-Hispanic culture and society. The strongest evidence that Mesoamerican peoples in general, and those of the Central Mexican highlands in particular, did not have a system of ancestor worship is that Sahagun describes the cult of the dead not as a separate complex but as part of the annual ritual and ceremonial cycle. In addition, Carrasco (personal communication) argues convincingly that the Nahuatl peoples of Central Mexico did not have ancestor worship because they lacked lineages (unilineal descent) to which the practice could be anchored, such as in the case of the royal Incan ayllus or the classical Roman gentes, stirpes, and familiae. (Carrasco does point out, though, that the situation was more complicated; at least for the nobility, there were lineage-like structures in Mesoamerica, as corroborated to some extent by the archeological findings of mummies and other remains of ancestors in the Mixtec and Yucatan areas.) However, most sixteenth-century sources concerning aspects of pre-Hispanic religion have something to say about the cult of the dead, and it is important to analyze them in some detail in order to gain the proper perspective on this phenomenon.

ETHNOHISTORICAL EVIDENCE FOR A CULT OF THE DEAD

Munoz Camargo makes only one reference to the cult of the dead, and that was quoted above. Sahagun, on the other hand, mentions the cult of the dead several times and discusses it extensively three times. First, as part of his description of the rites of the fourteenth month, Quecholli, he says (Sahagun 1956, vol. 1:203): "Al quinto dia hacian unas saeticas pequenas, a honra de los difuntos . . . y ponianles sobre las sepulturas de los difuntos; tambien ponian juntamente un par de tamales dulces; todo el dia estaba esto en las sepulturas y a la puesta del sol encendian las teas, y alii se quemaban las teas y las saetas. El carbon y ceniza que de ellas se hacia enterrabanlo sobre la sepultura del muerto, a honra de los que habian muerto en la guerra." (On the fifth day they made small arrows in honor of the dead . . . and placed them on their graves; at the same time they also placed a couple of sweet tamales. These offerings remained on the graves all day; at sunset the torches were lit, and on the spot the candlewood and arrows were burnt. The resulting charcoal and ashes were buried on the grave of the dead, in honor of those who had died in war.) Second, during Izcalli, the eighteenth and last month of the year, Sahagun (1956, vol. 1:225) says, "Ofrecian al fuego cada uno en su casa cinco huauhquiltamalli, puestos en un plato, y tambien ofrecian sobre las sepulturas de los 58

THE CULT OF THE DEAD: THE PRE-HISPANIC COMPONENT

muertos, adonde estaban enterrados, a cada uno un tamal; esto hacian antes que ellos comiensen de los tamales. Despues comian todos y no dejaban ninguno para otro dia; esto por via de ceremonia." (Every household used to offer to the fire five amaranth cakes [tamales] on a platter; they also made this offering to the dead, placing a tamale on each of the graves where they were buried. This ceremony took place before they partook of the tamales, and the remaining ones had to be eaten thereafter, for none could be saved for the following day.) Sahagun's third description of ceremonies for the dead, during Tepeilhuitl, the thirteenth month, has already been quoted. What is most significant in Sahagun's treatment, as well as that in all the other sixteenth-century sources (to be given below), is that the rites and ceremonies of the complex are an integral part of the elaborate annual cycle regulated by the calendrical system. Thus, Tepeilhuitl was the feast in honor of tutelary mountain owners, a complex designed to propitiate and intensify those supernaturals intimately associated with water, fertility, and the agricultural cycle; Quecholli was a manifold celebration of rites and ceremonies in honor of Huitzilopochtli, the god of war, and the gods of the hunt and a number of agricultural deities with decidedly protective and propitiatory overtones; and Izcalli was dedicated mostly to the cult of the fire god, Xiuhtecutli or Huehueteotl, though it was also a time for thanksgiving to and propitiation of the gods in general. It is sometimes difficult to determine the ritual and ceremonial position of the cult of the dead in the structure of the annual cycle, but given the nature of the worshipped gods and the propitiatory, intensifying, protective, and/or thanksgiving character of the functions and activities involved, it is possible to interpret the cult of the dead as it was manifested throughout the year. For example, the effigies, and their symbolic simulacra (snakes, wooden sticks in the shape of hills) made of tzoalli (amaranth dough), offered to tutelary mountain owners during the month of Tepeilhuitl were also offered to the dead associated with water and the natural elements, making clear why these supernaturals and the dead were worshipped and propitiated jointly. Moreover, the time of celebrating and the supernatural associations of the cult of the dead are intimately tied to the disposition and destination of the dead. Again in the context of the calendrical annual cycle, the Dominican friar Duran described two feasts of the dead. First, during the ninth month, Tlaxochimaco (Sahagun 1956, vol. 1:119-120), the celebration of Miccailhuitontli took place, which Duran (1967, vol. 1:269-270) translates into Spanish as fiestecita de los muertos or fiesta de los muertecitos (little feast of the dead, or feast of the little dead). Duran de59

CHAPTER 2

scribes it as a solemn occasion on which offerings and sacrifices were made in honor of dead children {ninos inocentes, probably children who had died in infancy), and he regards it as a preview of a similar celebration to come. The cult of the dead in the context of Miccailhuitontli is intimately associated with a concern for supernatural protection against the sometimes devastating effects of hail on the maturing crops during the months of August and early September, which in preHispanic times (as well as today) could bring famine to entire communities in the Central Mexican highlands. It is not clear in Duran's account how the propitiation of dead children was thought to achieve this objective, but there can be little doubt that dead children acted as sympathetic devices—supernatural intermediaries, as it were—in protecting the crops against hail. There is no other explanation for the fact that the most conservative Tlaxcalan communities until today keep the graves of infants and children decorated profusely with flowers throughout the month of August. The people believe that infants and children can intercede on their behalf before El Cuatlapanga and La Malintzi, the most prominent tutelary mountain owners in the Tlaxcalan region, regarded as masters of the natural elements (rain, thunder, and lightning, as well as hail). Twenty days later, during the tenth month, Xocotl Huetzi, there took place what Duran called La Fiesta Grande de los Muertos (the great feast of the dead). This was a feast for the adult dead, which other sources (e.g., Codice Telleriano-Remensis 1964:158, plate 4) call Hueymiccaylhuitl. Duran (1967, vol. 1:271) says: "La gran fiesta de los difuntos, de que en este decimo mes se ofrece tratar, se celebra, segun la cuenta de nuesto calendario, a ventiocho de agosto. Era dia solemnisimo y principal, donde se sacrificaba gran numero de hombres." (The great feast of the deceased, which takes place in the tenth month, is celebrated on the twenty-eighth of August, according to our calendar. It was a very solemn and important day, when many men were sacrificed.) He goes on to describe the ritual and ceremonial activities that occurred during the month, and it is evident that, as far as the cult of the dead was concerned, it was a continuation of the activities of the ninth month. It must be emphasized that the twenty days of each month of the Mesoamerican calendar constituted an elaborate and diversified complex of rites, ceremonies, and related activities dedicated to a number of gods and goddesses. Probably none of the eighteen months can be said to have had a single, exclusive ritual and ceremonial theme. What is important to realize in the context of this monograph is that the protective, and to some extent the intensifying, activities initiated during the 60

THE CULT OF THE DEAD: THE PRE-HISPANIC COMPONENT

ninth month continued during the tenth (that is, throughout the entire month of August) and that the dead played a significant role in the proceedings. For example, during the first day of Miccailhuitontli a big and thick tree (un grande y grueso madero) was cut down, its bark removed, and its trunk made smooth. This tree (xocotl), brought from the mountain, was left on the ground at the main entrance or access to the village or town. There it was received with music and dancing and remained in situ for twenty days, while the people made daily offerings of food and incense {copal). At the onset of Hueymiccaylhuitl, the xocotl was ceremonially lifted by the priests, taken to the main enclosure of the temple, and reverently erected there. Then, a bird made of tzoalli was put on top of the tree, and an elaborate offering of food and pulque (neutle, octli—fermented agave juice) was placed at its foot. The ceremony lasted all day and was accompanied by much singing and dancing (Duran 1967, vol. 1:269-273). Sahagun (1956, vol. 1:184-190) gives a more elaborate version of these proceedings, and in addition tells us that the xocotl was decorated with paper and implies that it took the form of a mountain, abutted by an actual effigy of the mountain's tutelary owner made of tzoalli. Undoubtedly other ritual and ceremonial activities took place during the month of Xocotl Huetzi, but its salient theme was placation of the forces of nature through the supernaturals that controlled them in order to ensure the successful maturing of the crops. This is a reasonable interpretation in the light of contemporary ethnographic information. In at least three communities in Tlaxcala surrounding La Malintzi volcano, there still takes place a ceremony that is surely a survival of Xocotl Huetzi. On August 10 (the day of San Lorenzo [Saint Lawrence], the Christian name of El Cuatlapanga, the master of hail), the official tezitlazc (a practitioner believed to be endowed with powers to control the weather) of the community, accompanied by a number of villagers, climbs halfway up the El Cuatlapanga hill to a large cave, where they leave an offering of flowers, candles, incense, food, and drink (Nutini 1968:81-82). From there, they go on to the midslopes of La Malintzi volcano, where they cut down a mediumsize tree with two thick lower branches in the form of a cross. The bark of the tree is removed on the spot, and the body of this natural cross is smoothed out. With great care, the tree-cross is carried back to the village while the tezitlazc chants litanies in Nahuatl and Spanish invoking the name of El Cuatlapanga and San Lorenzo (the Christian patron saint of rain). A large number of people wait on the outskirts of the community; the tree-cross is taken to the entrance of the cemetery, where it is ceremonially erected. The wife of the tezitlazc, with the help 61

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of a number of volunteer women, decorates the tree-cross with colorful papier-mache, and a plate of alegrias (candy squares or rectangles made of amaranth, sugar, and honey) is placed at its foot. The deco­ rated tree-cross and offering remain in place for twenty days, after which they are ceremonially burnt. 5 Of the important primary sources on pre-Hispanic culture, Motoli­ nia has the least information on the cult of the dead. His only reference comes in the context of a discussion of conversion and catechization (Motolinia 1969:15): Demas de estos tenian otros dias de sus difuntos, de llanto que por ellos hacian, en los cuales dias despues de comer y embeodarse Hamaban a el demonio, y estos dias eran de esta manera: que enterraban y lloraban a el difunto, y despues a los viente dias tornaban a llorar a el difunto y a ofrecer por el comida y rosas encima de su sepultura; y cuando se complian ochenta dias hacian otro tanto, y de ochenta en ochenta dias, Io mismo; y acabado el ano, cada ano en el dia que murio el difunto Ie lloraban y hacian ofrenda, hasta el cuarto ano; y desde alii cesaban totalmente para nunca mas se acordar del muerto. Por via de hacer sufragio, a todos sus difuntos nombraban teutl fulano, que quiere decir, fulano dios, ο fulano santo. (Besides these they had other days dedicated to the dead, when they mourned them, and, after eating and getting drunk, they would call the devil. This is what took place during these days: They buried and mourned the dead person, and after twenty days, they mourned him again and placed food and flowers on his grave; and every eighty days they did the same until the end of the year [after his death]. For four consecutive years they made the offering and mourned him on the day of his death, after which he was never again remembered. As a means of availing themselves of their power of intercession, they called all dead persons teutl [sic; should be teotl, "god" in Nahautl] so-and-so, that is, god so-andso, or saint so-and-so.) Motolinia does not specify the dates when the dead were worshipped (see Sahagun 1956, vol. 1:293-298). But the last sentence of this quo­ tation is extremely important in understanding the cult of the dead and its place in pre-Hispanic religion. In 1945, the journal Tlalocan published a manuscript found in the Escorial palace library and entitled "Customs, Feasts, Burials, and Var­ ious Forms of Behavior of the Indians of New Spain" (Gomez de 62

THE CULT OF THE DEAD: THE PRE-HISPANIC COMPONENT

Orozco 1971). Its author is unknown, but the manuscript is dated 1553 and probably comes from the Texcoco region. It contains much information on religion and one significant reference to the cult of the dead (p. 42): "Hazian la fiesta de los defunctos, porque offrecian por ellos antje] el demonio muchas gallinas y maiz y mantas y vestidos y comida e otras cosas y en particular cada vno hazia en su casa gran fiesta y a las imagenes que tenian de sus padres y papas y defunctos sahumauan con encieso e sacrificauanse las leng[uas] y orejas y piernas y bragos y sus partes, y con la sangre untaujan] estos ydolos de sus pasados y cubrianlos con vn papel, y cada v[n] ano hazian Io mesmo, de manera que en ellos se parecia qua[n]tos anos avia que se acordauan, y tenian memoria de ellos p[or] los papeles y sangre que cada vn ano les ponian." (They used to celebrate the feast of the dead, because they offered in their honor to the devil [god or gods] many turkeys, corn, blankets, clothing, food, and other things. In particular, every household celebrated a great feast. They incensed the images that they had of their dead parents, kinsmen, and priests, and drawing blood [by pricking themselves with agave thorns] from their tongues, ears, legs, arms, and pudenda, they rubbed the idols of their ancestors and covered them with paper. Every year they did the same, and the blood and paper was a yearly reminder for how long they had remembered the dead.) This feast of the dead took place during the fifth month, Toxcatl, dedicated primarily to Tezcatlipoca, the principal god, and secondarily to Huitzilopochtli, the god of war. Although the month may have included different activities, the main theme of the ritual and ceremonial activity of Toxcatl was "asking the gods for water," as Duran (1967, vol. 1:255) clearly indicates. Toxcatl came at the end of the dry season, when the rains were about to begin; its first day fell on April 23, according to Sahagun (1956, vol. 1:114); o n April 22, according to the Escorial manuscript; and on May 5, according to the Codice Borbonico, as determined by Caso (1939:27; 1971). As is indicated by the meaning of this month in Nahuatl (dryness and lack of water), the thrust of the activity was aimed at hastening the arrival of the rainy season. There are no specific statements in the primary sources as to how the dead fit into this complex, but here again we may surmise that, as in the case of the Miccailhuitontli—Hueymiccaylhitl complex, the dead acted in some sort of intermediary supernatural role. But the cult of the dead during the month of Toxcatl also obeyed other theological and cosmological reasons, as Carrasco (1979:52-61) brilliantly demonstrates in his analysis of the ritual calendar of Central Mexico. Among the partly pictorial sources on pre-Hispanic religion, the Codice Telleriano-Remensis (1964) is particularly important for pres63

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ent purposes. In its account of the fixed celebrations in the calendrical cycle, there are two references to the cult of the dead, which correspond exactly to Duran's little feast of the dead and great feast of the dead. The Codice Telleriano-Remensis, however, expands on Duran's account. First, the feast of Miccaylhuitl (Duran Miccailhuitontli) is described as follows: "Fiesta de todos los muertos, entra a tres de Agosto. En esta fiesta hazian ofrendas a los muertos, poniendoles comida y bebida sobre sus sepulturas, Io cual hazian por espacio de quatro anos, porque tenian que en todo este tiempo no yban las animas al lugar de su descanso segun su modo, y asi los enterraban con toda su ropa, vestidos y ca^ados, porque creyan que hasta llegar al lugar a donde avian de ir las animas, al fin de aquellos quatro anos, havian de tener mucho trabajo, frio, y cansancio, y que avian de pasar por vnos lugares llenos de nieve y de espinas" (Codice Telleriano-Remensis 1964:156, plate 3; see also Sahagun 1956, vol. 1:293-298). (The feast of all the dead begins on the third of August. During this feast, offerings of food and drink were made to the dead on their graves. They did this for four consecutive years, because they believed that throughout this period the souls of the dead did not reach their final resting place. Thus, the dead were buried fully dressed, because they believed that until arriving at their final destination, at the end of four years, the souls underwent much toil, cold, and fatigue and passed through places covered with snow and thorns.) This account gives us additional information concerning the feast of the dead during the ninth month of the year, but, unlike Duran's, does not particularly associate it with the cult of dead children. The interpreter of this codex, Jose Corona Nunez, says that this celebration of the dead is similar to the feast of the dead among contemporary Mexican Indians, but unfortunately, he does not identify the contemporary Indians, nor does he specify what the similarities are. The Codice Telleriano-Remensis also describes practices concerning a celebration during the tenth month that are not found in any of the main sources: "Entra esta fiesta a XXIII de Agosto. En este mes tornaban a hazer otra vez la fiesta de los defunctos; y era muy mayor que la pasada . . . Los tres dias ultimos de este mes ayunavan todos los viuos a los muertos, y salianse a jugar al campo por via de reguzijo.. . . Cada ano, quando hazian la fiesta de los muertos, mientras los gacerdotes hazian los sacrificios, todo el pueblo, cada vno en su casa, se subia sobre las aguteas de sus casa, y mirando hazia el Norte, hazian grandes oraciones a los muertos, cada vno a los que eran de su linaje; y dando vozes dezian: Venid presto que os esperamos" (Codice Telleriano-Remensis 1964:158, plate 4). (This feast begins on August 23. During this month 64

THE CULT OF THE DEAD: THE PRE-HISPANIC COMPONENT

they celebrated again the feast of the dead, which was much more important than the previous one . . . During the last three days of this month, the living fasted in honor of the dead, and they rejoiced by going to the fields to play. Every year, when they celebrated the feast of the dead, and while the priests made sacrifices, all the people, each one in his own house, climbed to the roof. Facing north, they fervently prayed to their own kin, entreating them with the words: "Come quickly, for we are waiting for you.") This feast is described as being the most important and elaborate of various similar feasts of the annual cycle. The Codice Telleriano-Remensis also reports a celebration taking place during the thirteenth month, Ueypachtli (or what Sahagun calls Tepeilhuitl), which, although not directly related to the cult of the dead, is relevant to our purposes: "Esta era la gran fiesta del omillamiento, en esta fiesta celebraban las fiestas de todos sus dioses, asi como quien dize fiesta de todos los santos" (Codice Telleriano-Remensis 1964:164, plate 7). (This was the great feast of humbling [oneself]. On this occasion they celebrated the feasts of all their gods, or as one would say, the feast of all the saints.) The meaning of "the great feast of humbling" (or, alternatively, "of doing penance") is obscure, and there seem to be no clues to its meaning in any other of the primary sources, nor indeed any indications that there was such a "feast of all the gods." It is possible that the original interpreter or interpreters of the codex mistook the celebrations of the large number of gods and goddesses during the month of Tepeilhuitl—Tlaloc, the god of rain; his acolytes, the tlaloques; tutelary mountain owners such as Popocatepetl, Iztaccihuatl, and Matlalcueyec; and others—for a general celebration of the entire pantheon. Or, as Carraso suggests (personal communication), the Nahuatl gloss teotl eco or teteo eco {llegan los dioses—the gods arrive) may have been translated as todos santos. (The interpreter of this plate indirectly refers to the gods as abogado [intercessor] and angel de la guarda [guardian angel], which is a revealing theological and cosmological conception of the deities.) More likely, however, equating Tepeilhuitl with a feast of all the saints is simply an inappropriate analogy, reflecting the fact that, some thirty years after the beginning of conversions, most Indians in Central Mexico, and educated Indians in particular, had been significantly influenced by Catholic beliefs and practices. The same unwitting influence can be detected in Duran (1967: vol. 1:269-270), and in Munoz Camargo (1948), though not in Sahagun (1956) or Motolinia (1903, 1969), who are more objective in separating their own beliefs from what their informants told them or what they observed. 65

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In contemporary scholarship, two anthropologists in particular, Kirchhoff and Carrasco, have dealt with the cult of the dead. In an analysis of the pre-Hispanic ritual and ceremonial cycle, Kirchhoff (1972.: 199-204) mentions all but one of the feasts of the dead that have been referred to above: those that take place during the months of Toxcatl, Tlaxochimaco, Xocotl Huetzi, Tepeilhuitl, and Quecholli. He does not mention Sahagun's description of the ceremonies for the dead during the month of Izcalli, but he does mention another feast of the dead that took place during the seventeenth month, Tititl (see Codex Magliabecchi 1903: plate 45). Kirchhoff does not cite the source of his information, but it is possible that what is involved here is the same feast of the dead, which took place either during Tititl or Izcalli, depending on the month in which the Mesoamerican year began. Carrasco (1979:52-61; 1976:235-288), on the other hand, briefly discusses the feasts of the dead during Toxcatl, Tlaxochimaco, Xocotl Huetzi, Quecholli, and Tititl, skillfully setting the entire complex within the context of the cosmology, social structure, and natural environment of pre-Hispanic religion. His interpretation of the annual calendrical cycle makes clear the propitiatory, protective, and intensifying aspects of the cult of the dead. Other aspects of the cult must be explained in terms of theology and cosmology, but in this respect, too, Carrasco has put the problem in the proper perspective/

CALENDRICAL, THEOLOGICAL, AND COSMOLOGICAL UNDERPINNINGS

It is possible to establish the dates of most of the feasts of the dead according to the European calendar. It should be clearly understood that the dates are approximate (see Carrasco 1979:52-61), but they are more than sufficiently accurate for our purposes. Munoz Camargo's reference to the cult of the dead is one that cannot be dated. However, his statement that distinguished men were memorialized in statuary form is doubtful; with the possible exception of the Maya of Yucatan (Landa 1966:59-60), Mesoamericans apparently never institutionalized such a practice. Munoz Camargo either obtained incorrect information or misinterpreted what he was told. A likely explanation of his assertion is that he confused the tzoalli images offered to the dead with actual statues, presumably made of stone, ceramic, or wood. If this is the case, then perhaps he was referring to the feast oi the dead during the month of Tepeilhuitl. Motolinia's reference cannot be precisely dated, either. There are indications, however, that he was referring to

66

THE CULT OF THE DEAD: THE PRE-HISPANIC COMPONENT

the great feast of the dead that took place during the month of Xocotl Huetzi. The other six references to the cult of the dead discussed above can be dated with no difficulty in the sources themselves, but not with respect to the European calendar. The sources do not agree as to the beginning of each Mesoamerican month or as to the exact date of some of the feasts. For example, Sahagun places the beginning of the Mesoamerican year on February 2 (Candlemas), and Duran on March 1, while the Codice Telleriano-Remensis appears to place it on February 24 (the first six plates of the original codex are lost). The correlation of the Mesoamerican and European calendars presents some interesting problems, but they do not concern us here. Suffice it to say that the approximate correlations given by the sources are sufficiently accurate for the description and analysis to come. The correlations established by Caso are for the year 1519 of the Julian calendar; the others are for the Gregorian calendar. In the ususal chronological order of the months, then, the Nahuatlspeaking peoples of the Central Mexican highlands worshipped, celebrated, and sacrificed to the dead on the following dates: i. During the fifth month, Toxcatl, from April 22 to May 11, according to the Escorial manuscript (Gomez de Orozco 1971:42); from May 5 to May 24, according to Caso (Carrasco 1979:61). The feast of the dead probably took place during the first two or three days of the month. 2. During the ninth month, Tlaxochimaco, from August 8 to August 27, according to Duran (1967, vol. 1:269); from August 3 to August 22, according to Codice Telleriano-Remensis (1964:156, plate 3); from July 24 to August 12, according to Caso (Carrasco 1979:61). The main rites and ceremonies for the dead took place during the first day of the month. 3. During the tenth month, Xocotl Huetzi, from August 28 to September 17, according to Duran (1967, vol 1:271); from August 23 to September 12, according to Codice Telleriano-Remensis (1964:148, plate 4); from August 13 to September 1, according to Caso (Carrasco 1979:61). The main rites and ceremonies for the dead took place during the last three days of the month. 4. During the thirteenth month, Tepeilhuitl, from September 30 to October 19, according to Sahagun (1956, vol. 1:125); October 12 to October 31, according to Caso (Carrasco 1979:61). 5. During the fourteenth month, Quecholli, from October 20 to November 8, according to Sahagun (1956, vol. 1:126); from November 1 to November 20, according to Caso (Carrasco 1979:61). The high 67

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point of the cult of the dead appears to have fallen on the fifth day of the month. 6. During the seventeenth month, Tititl: Following Caso (Carrasco 1979:61), the feast of the dead should have fallen between December 31 and January 19 (?). 7. During the eighteenth month, Izcalli, from January 8 to January 27, according to Sahagun (1956, vol. 1:131); from January 25 to February 13, according to Caso (Carrasco 1979:61). The offerings to the dead seemed to have extended throughout the month and into the five extra days at the end of the solar year. This ritual and ceremonial calendar should be regarded as a composite picture of the cult of the dead among the Nahuatl peoples of Central Mexico, since the information in the original sources comes from several regions (though mostly from the Valley of Mexico and the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley) and no two accounts are exactly alike. There is no doubt, however, that the picture is a reasonably accurate one, not only for Central Mexico but perhaps for most of Mesoamerica. However, it is not based on an exhaustive study of the sources, several of which have not been consulted in depth (for example, Chimalpahin 1965; Ixtlixochitl 1965; Las Casas 1966; Mendieta 1945; Tezozomoc 1943; Torquemada 1969; Zapata i960). In addition, there are a number of codices that contain relevant pictorial information. Nevertheless, my knowledge of these sources suggests that there is nothing new or substantially different from what has been obtained from the main original sources discussed above. It is beyond the scope of this chapter to go into all the cosmological, theological, and social elaborations and complexities of the pre-Hispanic cult of the dead within the Mesoamerican polytheistic system (see Carrasco 1976; Caso 1958; Lopez Austin 1973; Soustelle 1955). However, two of its theological and cosmological aspects must be discussed here in order to arrive at an understanding and explanation of the position of the cult of the dead in pre-Hispanic polytheism and the process of syncretism that it underwent during the first 150 years after the Spanish Conquest. Carrasco (1976:235-257) has demonstrated that the structure and social organization of the pre-Hispanic peoples of Central Mexico and that of their pantheon of gods were the same: they were governed by the same principles, and many aspects and forms of human behavior were replicated in supernatural behavior. As he pointed out later (Carrasco 1977:12), "the gods have different ranks corresponding to those in human society. Just as there are lords (teteuctin), each one of whom has a court of nobles and servants, the main gods are also teuctli of different spaces [domains] of the universe, each one with a retinue of gods 68

THE CULT OF THE DEAD: THE PRE-HISPANIC COMPONENT

of lesser rank in attendance. The deified dead go to one of the residences of the main gods, where they become members of his [or her] court." Moreover, there was fundamentally no distinction between cosmology and theology: the origins of the gods and the world, the provenance of human beings, their trajectory on earth, their relationship to the gods, and their final destination were basically a single normative system. In this conception of the universe, humans were created by the gods, went through life in intimate ritual and ceremonial contact with their creators, and joined them in their final destination. (Humans were said to originate in Omeyocan, the realm of the creation couple, Ometeuctli, the Lord of Our Flesh, and Omecihuatl, the Lady of Corn, but all the gods in the pantheon were regarded as their creators.) The structure and social organization of earthly life were mirrored in the afterlife, where the dead went to serve their creators (Carrasco 1976:2.35-2.41; 1977:12). As servants of the gods in the afterlife, the dead were at the same time men and gods. It may have been in this sense that Motolinia hinted at the deification of the dead in the passage quoted above, suggesting that the dead became intermediaries in the relationship between humans and the gods, rather than becoming gods in their own right as implied by Munoz Camargo in the passage also quoted above. The final destination of the dead—more specifically, the particular supernatural domain in which they became servants of a god or gods— was determined by the circumstances of each person's death. Since each supernatural domain had a god or gods who ruled over it (and who were also the patrons of specific social, religious, economic, and virtually all other human activities), death could be seen as the method of recruiting humans to serve in the retinues of the gods (Carrasco 1976:248). The seven occasions of the cult of the dead cited above (and possibly several other occasions not reported in the sources) can thus be explained in terms of rites and ceremonies of remembrance in honor of those who had died under particular circumstances or on occasions whose dates were associated with the feasts of the patron gods of the dead persons' final destinations. It is possible that there were theoretically as many celebrations of the dead during the year as there were identifiable ways of dying marked by patron gods. In practice, however, it appears that only the most socially significant and the most common ways of dying were celebrated. Under such conditions, and given the general characteristic of societies in Central Mexico, one would expect celebrations for those who had died of natural causes, in childhood, in battle, as the result of natural calamities, and perhaps in 69

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the context of other social, biological, or natural activities. The seven celebrations of the dead can be examined in this light. The ceremonies for the dead during the month of Toxcatl were associated with the feast of Tezcatlipoca and Huitzilopochtli. But the main theme of the month seems to have been the hastening of the rainy season, and thus the celebrations were concerned also with the propitiations of the gods of water, rain, and the agricultural cycle in general. There are then three possibilities: The dead who were celebrated during the feast could have been those who went to serve Tezcatlipoca in the ninth heaven (one of the thirteen upper levels of supraworld of the Nahuatl universe); they could have been those who had died in battle and who then became companions of Huitzilopochtli; or they could have been those who had died as a result of natural elements and possibly went to reside in Tlalocan, the realm of Tlaloc and his acolytes. The original sources are not detailed or systematic enough to enable us to make a confident choice from among these possibilities. The feast of the little dead (Miccailhuitontli), in the month of Tlaxochimaco, evidently celebrated dead children, as the name indicates. Although other important gods, such as Tezcatlipoca, Huitzilopochtli, and Cihuacoatl (goddess of earth), were also worshipped at this time, the protective and intensifying activites of the month seem to have been centered on those who had died young. Carrasco (1976:251) says, "Children who died in infancy went to Tonacacuauhtitlan, 'Tree of Sustenance,' located in the heaven of the creation couple, the Lord and Lady of Sustenance. This was a place where all kinds of trees and fruits grew abundantly, and the souls of the children in the form of hummingbirds went about sucking flowers." The sources do not attempt to explain why dead children joined the creation couple, but one can surmise that those who died before achieving a social persona were returned to the place inhabited by the supernaturals who had given them the initial life impulse. The great feast of the dead (Hueymiccaylhuitl) was celebrated at the end of the month of Xocotl Huetzi. As already pointed out, the protective and intensifying rites and ceremonies of the ninth month were continued throughout this, the tenth month and, in the usual fashion, in connection with celebrations in honor of a number of other gods, such as Xiuhtecutli and Painal (lieutenant god of war). Although none of the sources cited above mentions the name of Mictlantecutli, the god of hell, it is evident that Hueymiccaylhuitl celebrates the dead who joined this lord in his infraworld. This is clear in the description in the Codice Telleriano-Remensis (1964:158, plate 4), when the living, on the roof of their houses and facing north, prayed to the dead and beckoned them 70

THE CULT OF THE DEAD: THE PRE-HISPANIC COMPONENT

to return. The implication here is that the north was associated with hell as well as with a series of infraworlds. Individuals who had died of natural causes, that is, of old age or as a result of common illnesses, went to Mictlan—literally, "place of the dead." Though this may be rendered as "hell," it should be emphasized that hell did not have any of the connotations of the Christian hell, given the essentially pragmatic nature of pre-Hispanic religion and the fact that transgressions against the moral order were punished in this world and not in the afterlife. Mictlan was located in the lowest level of the nine infraworlds. It was ruled by Mictlantecutli and his wife Mictecacihuatl, and their court included other gods of hell as well as those who had died and were destined to it. These dead were cremated, and their souls embarked on a long and arduous journey that lasted four years before reaching their final destination. (There are very interesting similarities here to the journey of the dead in Greek mythology, with dog, river, and other elaborations.) The recurring offerings to the dead (Motolinia 1969:25; Codice Telleriano-Remensis 1964:156, plate 3) until the fourth anniversary are presumably rites of intensification designed to help them in their difficult journey. The dead lived in hell in the same fashion in which they had lived on earth, and consequently they were buried with the instruments, utensils, and insignia of their earthly status. Once in hell, they returned to earth once a year for the feast of Hueymiccaylhuitl, as described in the Codice Telleriano-Remensis (see also Carrasco 1976:248-249). This is regarded by Durdn and the Codice Telleriano-Remensis, quite properly, as the highpoint of the cult of the dead in the annual cycle. Since in any stable society, the overwhelming majority of people die of old age or common illnesses, it stands to reason that Mictlan was by far the most usual final destination for the dead; simply on the basis of numbers, it would require the greatest degree of ritual and ceremonial elaboration. There are no indications in the sources that the many other kinds of dead returned to visit the living, and this alone would mark Hueymiccaylhuitl as the pinnacle of the cult of the dead. The celebration during the month of Tepeilhuitl blended in with the feast of tutelary mountain owners and the gods of water and rain and their acolytes. More than in others months, the general theme of this celebration was water and the agricultural cycle, probably a thanksgiving complex for the crops about to be harvested and propitiatory rites for the coming agricultural cycle. It thus honored those who had died by drowning or as the result of leprosy or dropsy (illnesses that were believed to be caused by the gods of water and rain) or possibly from other water-related causes. All these went to Tlalocan, the domain of 71

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Tlaloc, where he ruled with the assistance of the tlaloques. Moreover, all humans sacrificed to the gods also went to Tlalocan. Unlike those who died of natural causes, those whose deaths were water-related were buried with the typical insignia of the gods of rain. Tlalocan was located in the first heaven, just above the surface of the earth, but it was also believed that the gods of rain inhabited the summits of mountains, which were regarded as great depositories of water; hence there was a close association between the gods of water and rain and the tutelary mountain owners. The Spanish friars compared Tlalocan to the Garden of Eden, a place with abundant water, flowers, and food (Carrasco 1976:240-250), but it must be emphasized again that, for reasons given above, Tlalocan cannot in any way be identified with the Christian heaven. The ritual and ceremonial activity concerning water and fertility continued during the month of Quecholli, but the celebration was now centered on Huitzilopochtli, the god of war. Sahagun (1956, vol. 1:203) i s explicit about which dead were honored at this time: those who had died in battle. They, along with those who had been sacrificed to the gods and women who had died in childbirth, went to reside in one of the heavens or supraworlds occupied by the sun. Individuals who were equated with warriors, such as merchants who died in the course of protracted trading expeditions, or who performed as warriors, such as "wantons" (a kind of prostitute who acompanied men into battle) who had died in battle, also went to the realm of the sun (Carrasco 1976:253). The sources do not specify who was the lord of this realm, but one may surmise that it was one of the manifestations of Tonatiuh, the sun god. It is not clear exactly what the role of Huitzilopochtli was in this complex. The characteristics of the dead who were honored during the months of Tititl and Izcalli are not known. During Tititl, the gods feasted were Ilamatecutli (the "old" goddess), Cihuacoatl, and Mictlantecutli. Dead primiparae also appeared to have been celebrated. Most likely, the dead remembered during this month were those that went to Tlalocan or Mictlan. Probably the same can be said about the dead honored during Izcalli, which was marked by multiple feasts but with an emphasis on the gods associated with hell (Xiuhtecutli, Ayauhmictlan). T H E SYMBOLIC AND FUNCTIONAL INTERPRETATION

Theoretically, the theology and cosmology of pre-Hispanic religion ordained that those who died were destined to join the supernatural court of the god or goddess under whose sign, patronage, or association they 72

THE CULT OF THE DEAD: THE PRE-HISPANIC COMPONENT

had departed from human society. In other words, there were as many kinds of dead as there were patron gods of human functions and activities. In practice, however, there were too many kinds to be remembered properly, and so the people concentrated on the most important kinds: those who died of natural causes; those who were sacrified or who died in battle or in symbolically related activities (as befitted societies so much concerned with bloodshed and death); those who died in connection with water, the natural elements, and symbolically related events (as would be expected in agricultural societies); and those who died young. But there is more to this complex than its theology and cosmology. It is implied in the sources that the dead served as intermediaries between humans and the supernatural and embodied significant elements of protection, propitiation, intensification, and thanksgiving. Closer scrutiny of these aspects is important for an understanding of the syncretic process that followed the conversion to Catholicism after the Spanish Conquest, when the theological and cosmological underpinnings of the pre-Hispanic cult of the dead were largely forgotten, but its functional and symbolic elements were perpetuated in a number of rites and ceremonies that took place throughout the year but were most explicitly centered in Todos Santos. Part human and part divine, the dead formed a link between humans and the gods. When they joined the deities to whom they were destined, they became intermediaries between the natural and supernatural worlds. Thus, one can conceive the cult of the dead as a means through which humans used these demigods as mediators in their supplications to the gods. In many ways, the dead in pre-Hispanic polytheism were structural equivalents of the saints in Catholicism: personages without any supernatural power in their own right who intercede on behalf of men before the Almighty God or powerful gods. This is clearly the intent when Motolinia (1969:25) describes the deification of the dead and suggests that they function as intercessors on behalf of man; and when he equates the deified dead as kinds of saints, his analogy could not have been more appropriate. Theoretically, then, one can infer that every feast in honor of the gods was also directed at their dead servants, as a way of achieving the protective, propitiatory, intensifying, or other aims of the rites and ceremonies. In practice, this happened only for the most important human activities of the yearly cycle, but it appears that there was a private cult of the dead in which individuals and families invoked their own dead, as suggested by several of the sources discussed in this chapter. It is primarily the private cult of the dead that 73

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survived conversion to Catholicism, while its public aspects were almost totally replaced by the ritual and ceremonialism of the church. The protective, propitiatory, intensifying, and thanksgiving functions of the cult of the dead are evidently a corollary of the mediating position of the dead between man and the supernatural. The functional assignment of the cult of the dead can be inferred for each of the seven celebrations identified above, but it is in connection with the control of the natural elements that this assignment is most clearly and unmistakably inferred. At the feasts during the months of Toxcatl, Tlaxochimaco, and Xocotl Huetzi, the central concern was asking for water and rain and the protection of the crops against hail. The rites of the cult of the dead during the months of Tepeilhuitl and Quecholli can be identified as thanksgiving and supplicatory activities in connection with the agricultural cycle. The association of dead children with fertility and the agricultural cycle is evident in the practice of burying them next to storage bins. Moreover, in the thirteenth heaven of the creation couple, according to one account, there stood the Chichihualcuahuitl, "The Suckling Tree," which fed children who had died in infancy (Carrasco 1976:151). Several of these beliefs and practices have survived until today, sometimes fairly intact and independent of Catholicism, sometimes modified and as part of Catholic beliefs and practices. An ancillary aspect of pre-Hispanic ritual and ceremonialism that appears often in connection with the cult of the dead is the use of amaranth. This plant is widely distributed in the New World, and at the arrival of the Europeans it had been domesticated in several areas, from southern Chile to northern Mexico. There were apparently three main species of amaranth being cultivated in Mesoamerica at the time of the conquest: Amaranthus hypochondriacus, A. cruentus, and Chenopodium nuttalliae (Verdoorn 1945:20). The sixteenth-century Nahuatl name for amaranath was huauhtli, but most of the original sources refer to it as bledos in Spanish. Huauhtli can be specifically identified as A. hypochondriacus, and it was apparently cultivated extensively in Central Mexico. It is a tall, leafy, red-flowered, small-grained plant that is still cultivated in some parts of Mexico and not infrequently found semiwild. Although it never became a food staple—as another species of amaranth, quinoa (Chenopodium quinoa), did in parts of the Andean area and the Central Valley of Chile—huauhtli was an important nutrient in pre-Hispanic times. For example, the Codex Mendoza states that perhaps as many as 200,000 bushels of huauhtli a year were paid to Moctezuma (Williams 1981:9-10). It is not known for certain how much huauhtli was consumed as a daily item of diet, but a good deal is known about how, when, and under what circumstances it was 74

THE CULT OF THE DEAD: THE PRE-HISPANIC COMPONENT

used ritually and ceremonially. It obviously had significant magical and symbolic meaning for pre-Hispanic peoples, and one gets the impression that it served as a means of communion with the gods. There are many references in the sources to the use of huauhtli (Durdn 1967, vol. 1:28, 76, 119, 123, 156, 165; Gomez de Orozco 1971:47, 51, 52, 53; Sahagun 1956, vol. 1:125, 185, 200, 203), for it was an essential part of many rites and ceremonies. The red flowers were used for coloring ceremonial foodstuffs and other paraphernalia, and the grains were used in a variety of ways—for the making of effigies of the gods, tutelary mountain owners, and other sacra, and as the main ingredient in tzoalli, which was itself used for similar purposes; as the main ingredient of ceremonial meals and of tamales made for ceremonial offerings; and, in mortuary rites, to apply to the faces of the dead destined for Tlalocan. Duran (1967, vol. 1:119) says that the effigies made of tzoalli embodied the flesh and bones of the gods, suggesting that when the people ate the dough (generally after an important feast) they were "taking communion" (see also Motolinia 1969:19). As to why huauhtli came to occupy so important a place in these preHispanic ceremonies, one can only speculate. The grain is extremely nutritious; the red flowers might have been taken as representing blood and death; and the crop was the earliest to be harvested. In addition, as has often been noted, the flowers last for a long time after being picked (the name "amaranth" comes from a Greek word meaning "unfading"), and so it has been used as a symbol of immortality in several cultures (Robert Feldmesser, personal communication). These and other indications suggest that huauhtli was a fertility symbol, a good "conductor" in communicating with the gods, and the prime element in whatever transubstantiation was involved in pre-Hispanic theology. The Spanish friars were quick to understand the symbolic importance of huauhtli and took steps that led to its virtual elimination as a crop. But it has nevertheless survived and has retained some of its magical and symbolic properties in several sectors of Mexican society down to the present day. In sum, the cult of the dead among the Nahuatl-speaking peoples of Central Mexico was an integral part of their theology and cosmology and played a major part in the annual cycle of rites and ceremonies. The dead were worshipped and feasted as intermediaries between man and the gods, were propitiated as agents of protection and intensification, and were regarded as being in rather intimate contact with the living. The relationship involved an elaborate set of both public and private activities on many occasions throughout the year. The belief system specified the patterns of interaction between the living and the dead: 75

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the kinds of offerings, the return of the dead, the organization of specific activities, and perhaps what was expected on both sides of the relationship. It is this complex that was to interact with the Spanish cult of the dead during the first part of the colonial period and that became syncretized largely in the Todos Santos celebration.

76

·3· THE SYNCRETIC TRANSFORMATION OF TODOS SANTOS: STRUCTURE AND PROCESS

The concepts of syncretism and acculturation and the role they played in the transformation of pre-Hispanic culture and society after the Spanish Conquest have been discussed in previous works (Nutini 1976:301-32.1; Nutini and Bell 1980:287-378) in the contexts of the cult of the patron saint, the mayordomia system, and compadrazgo in Tlaxcala in particular and Mesoamerica in general. On this foundation, a theory of syncretism was developed that appears applicable to many areas of the New World colonized by the Spaniards. The purpose of this chapter is to review the main elements of this theory and to see to what extent it can explain the configuration of Todos Santos out of its European and pre-Hispanic antecedents, given the fact that this religious complex is not as central to the Catholicism imposed upon the Tlaxcalan Indians during the colonial period as were the contexts in which the theory was developed.

T H E THEORY AND PROCESS OF SYNCRETISM

The task of converting the Indian population and indoctrinating it in the ritual, ceremonial, and theological practices and beliefs of Catholicism was entrusted to the Franciscan order. The Franciscan friars were in total control of the religious life of the Indians from 15 24 (the beginning of systematic conversion and catechization) until roughly 1615, when they were replaced by secular religious authorities. It is chiefly in this ninety-year period that the syncretism of Tlaxcalan Indian religion was achieved. The policy of conversion pursued by the friars was greatly facilitated by symbolic, ritual, ceremonial, and formal similarities between Catholicism and the native Tlaxcalan religion. From the beginning, the friars apparently recognized that these similarities could be put to good use, for otherwise it is not easy to explain the form of Catholicism that the Indians came to practice around the end of the sixteenth century and that has continued to mark Indian Catholicism down to the present day. The process of conversion to and indoctrination in Catholicism in Tlaxcala, and in much of Mesoamerica and perhaps other parts of the Spanish colonial empire in the New World, can be characterized as "guided syncretism," a policy that the Franciscan 77

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friars consciously followed for two principal reasons: to stimulate rapid conversion of the Indians, and to soften the impact of forced conversion and make the new religion more palatable to the masses of the Indian population. The term "syncretism" has been used in anthropology primarily with two meanings. The first is the fusion of the religious or nonreligious traits, complexes of traits, or institutions of two cultural traditions in the course of face-to-face interaction. In this conception the reinterpretation of elements from the interacting cultures ultimately gives rise to new entities. Thus, syncretism is conceived as a special kind of acculturation, in which the elements in interaction have a relatively high degree of initial similarity in structure, function, and form. Although this view of syncretism has been formulated to apply to any aspect of culture and society, the most significant studies making use of it have dealt with religious phenomena. It is the conception of syncretism held by Spicer (1958), Madsen (1957), Foster (i960), Beals (1950), and Carrasco (1951,1961), to name some of the outstanding students of sociocultural change in Mesoamerica and adjacent areas. The second meaning of syncretism is concerned with the amalgamation and reinterpretation of religious elements only, and it does not necessarily involve the direct confrontation of the entire institutional arrangement of the interacting cultural traditions. This view of syncretism is exemplified chiefly by Herskovits (1937a, 1937b), who never specified either the conditions under which syncretism occurs or the nature of the resulting religious entities. Herskovits was entirely concerned with the identification and reinterpretation of West African gods within the context of Brazilian, Cuban, and Haitian Catholicism. The concept of syncretism to be employed here is essentially the first of these two, and it will be treated as almost equivalent to religious acculturation. When two religious systems meet (in contexts that may include voluntary interaction and social and political pressures), the religious system that emerges is different from the two original systems, because of mutual, albeit often unequal, borrowings and lendings, which are internalized and interpreted in a process of action and reaction. In the syncretic religious situation of the Tlaxcalan Indians, the resultant religious system—the one that was being practiced at the end of the seventeeth century—was conditioned by the way in which and the conditions under which specific Catholic elements were internalized and reinterpreted by the mass of Tlaxcalans under the guidance of the Franciscan friars (Motolinia 1969:56-58). In this conception of syncretism, the traits, complexes of traits, or institutions in face-to-face interaction go through a number of develop78

TODOS SANTOS: STRUCTURE AND PROCESS

mental stages. Given the relative abundance of ethnohistorical data for Mesoamerica, it is generally possible to determine with a fair degree of accuracy the number, extent, and onset of these developmental stages. For the cult of the saints and the mayordomia system in Tlaxcala, three and four stages, respectively, have been identified (Nutini 1976:313318), at the end of which these institutions had achieved a syncretic composition and a structural configuration that remained basically constant until the beginning of the twentieth century. The developmental cycle of the Todos Santos complex resembles more closely that of the cult of the saints, which will therefore be discussed briefly. (1) During the first stage, the saints are presented to the Indians as ideological entities which at first they are unable to embody in their own structural religious system. The process of syncretism is initiated when the Indians, frequently encouraged by the friars, begin to equate Catholic saints with gods in their own pantheon. When this process of identification is well advanced in the collective consciousness (that is, when the friars tell the Indians that they are experiencing a given Catholic saint and they assent, even though they really are seeing a god of their own pantheon and take it as a matter of course), the first stage has been accomplished: the blurring of the ideological and structural orders of the interacting religious traditions. (2) In the second stage, the Indians' overall knowlege of pre-Hispanic religion begins to recede, due to the total destruction of idols and temples and the friars' success in stamping out rituals and beliefs they find offensive—for example, human sacrifice, polygyny, and polytheism. The Catholic structural order begins to gain the upper hand; the Indian population thinks more and more within the context of Catholic ritual and ceremonial practices and beliefs. But the people are still close enough to the pre-Hispanic situation to remember many of their ancestral religious practices, which inevitably will color the ascending Catholic structure. The second stage is therefore an intermediate one, marked by a serious struggle at the conscious and unconscious levels between the receding and ascending structural orders. The initial guided identification of a particular Catholic saint with a polytheistic god was to a large extent a controllable situation, but the second stage contains so many variables that control by religious authorities is virtually impossible. The outcome of the struggle is determined ultimately by extrinsic elements deriving from other syncretic matrixes; the extent to which the competing structural orders recede and advance, and the rate at which this takes place; and even various economic, political, and social factors. Thus, the second stage of the syncretic process is prima79

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rily a "free" process of development, in which the interplay of religious forces within the total matrix determines the emerging syncretic form of the element in question. In the example to be analyzed in this chapter, the structural and functional attributes of the emerging Todos Santos complex will be shaped by two main sets of factors: the initial points of identification between the pre-Hispanic cult of the dead and the Catholic cult of the dead; and the specific circumstances under which the recession of the former and the ascendance of the latter, both structurally and ideologically, will be conceptualized and accepted by the people. These circumstances include such elements as the social and religious need for the continuation of the cult of the dead; the effective participation of local religious hierarchies in playing the role of the friars and in some measure molding the syncretic process; and the physical and social means employed in religious indoctrination, such as morality plays, social rewards for appropriate religious devotion, repression of deviant religious behavior, and so on. (3) In the third stage, the pre-Hispanic religious ideological order has been largely forgotten. What is remembered of the old religion are only structural elements, disjointed and without a unified pattern and no longer forming part of the mainstream of the religious system; meanwhile, the Catholic religious ideological order is being internalized. This stage is marked by the emergence of a new ideological religious order, with the syncretized structural elements of the second stage interpreted within it. The syncretic cycle thereby comes to an end. In the present example, Todos Santos becomes a truly syncretic entity. The Catholic ideology is predominant, but it has been influenced by the processes of action and reaction of the second stage. Todos Santos appears to be mainly a Catholic complex in both structure and functions, but it is so only superficially. More than any other domain in the emerging religion, it is permeated with both physical and formal attributes that partake of both the pre-Hispanic cult of the dead and the Catholic cult of the dead, as these were shaped during the second stage. The physical attributes include the date and places of ceremonial activities, the household organization of the celebration, and the public discharge of the cult, while the formal attributes include its spiritual meaning, its theological character, and its place in the total Catholic annual cycle. At the end of the third stage, it is impossible for most practicing Indian Catholics to disentangle the components of the syncretic situation; indeed, they are no longer aware of the syncretism. It is simpler even for the educated to regard the syncretic situation as an essentially or80

TODOS SANTOS: STRUCTURE AND PROCESS

thodox manifestation of the religious tradition that had the social and political force to become dominant. Once the syncretic process has been completed and the action and reaction of structural forces have shaped an inextricable entity, religious polity will no longer acknowledge discrepancies or contradictions in the final syncretic product. Conceptually, however, it must be emphasized that while the structural order has been syncretized, the ideological order has not been, and in the end one of the original ideological orders substantially prevails. Thus, it can be properly said that the religious system of the Tlaxcalan Indians at the end of the seventeenth century was essentially Catholic. It should also be emphasized that the reason for the discrepancy between the degree of ideological and of structural syncretism is to be found in the social, economic, and political pressures that the dominant religion—indeed, the entire cultural tradition—has been able to exert on the syncretic matrix. Any structural or ideological elements remaining from the initial stage of interaction are in the final stage primarily outside of the integrated religious system. Beliefs and practices connected with the pre-Hispanic Tlaxcalan religion, such as witchcraft, sorcery, tutelary mountain owners, and fertility and intensification rites, are by then largely separate from the mainstream of Catholicism. Guided religious syncretism takes place under three conditions, which were all present in the Tlaxcalan area at the time of the conquest. These three conditions are: a high and objectively demonstrable structural and ideological similarity between the interacting religious traditions; asymmetry between the traditions, with one having the power of social, economic, and political coercion over the other; and the willingness of those in charge of conversion and the propagation of the faith (in Tlaxcala, the Franciscan friars) to foster identifications of both structural and symbolic content in the interacting traditions, or at least to be lenient in the application of orthodoxy, for the sake of more rapid and meaningful conversion of the dominated people. It is clear that in Tlaxcala, and in most of Mesoamerica, the Catholicism practiced by Indians and non-Indians alike is a syncretic religious system. In the case of this religious system, the process of syncretism did not stop shortly after the middle of the seventeenth century, as in the case of the cult of the saints. Rather, it appears to have continued until perhaps the end of the nineteenth century, and in some specific aspects until the present. Even Todos Santos, which seemed to have acquired its present content and form by about 1640, must have undergone further syncretic transformations through interaction between religious beliefs and practices introduced after the middle of the seventeenth century and the cult that had resulted from the original syncretic process. 81

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However, not only in the case of Todos Santos but perhaps also in the total ensemble of religious beliefs and practices of the Tlaxcalan area, the basic syncretic cycle had been completed by the second half of the seventeenth century. The next two centuries witnessed a series of minor cycles and epicycles that did not significantly alter the original syncretic configuration, at least until the contemporary period. This is amply illustrated in the development of the compadrazgo system (Nutini and Bell 1980:332-378). The syncretic structuring and development of Todos Santos exhibits differences from the syncretic processes of the cult of the saints, the mayordomia system, and compadrazgo, the principal institutions of the folk religion that came to dominate local culture and society. At the beginning, Todos Santos was not as central as these institutions to the ritual and ceremonial annual cycles or to the organization of community action, and the friars do not seem to have fostered any identifications between the interacting religious traditions. They had realized that the syncretic backgrounds of the cult of the saints, the mayordomia system, and compadrazgo were significant aids to conversion and catechization, but they evidently did not feel the same about the combined celebrations of All Saints Day and All Souls Day. It is not clear why they did not similarly take advantage of the pre-Hispanic cult of the dead, such a central aspect of the old religion. Perhaps it was because, while they believed it was within the boundaries of orthodoxy to allow or even to foster the identification of particular saints with certain gods, they sensed that it would be dangerous to allow any public manifestation of the old cult of the dead, so widely connected with the ritual and ceremonialism of polytheism and so pregnant with pagan meaning. This would be similar to the position of the early church fathers concerning the emergence of the Christian cult of the dead out of Roman polytheism (Gaillard 1950:237). In any event, compared to other institutions or complexes in the folk religion of rural Tlaxcala at the end of the seventeenth century, Todos Santos constitutes a freer, more "natural" example ofj>yncretism, to which those in charge of conversion had few if any significant inputs. It is thus not a case of guided syncretism but a spontaneous syncretization, in which the religious polity itself was the main source and matrix of the final product. Deprived of its public underpinnings, the pre-Hispanic cult of the dead interacted with the Catholic cult of the dead and was syncretized in Todos Santos essentially at the household level. Whatever public components were retained become mostly a folk manifestation of Catholicism. Significantly, the high degree of structural and ideological similarity between the pre-Hispanic and Catholic cults 82

TODOS SANTOS: STRUCTURE AND PROCESS

of the dead compensated for the lack of guided syncretism and functioned as the mainspring and catalyst of the syncretic process. Given the foregoing considerations, it appears that the Todos Santos complex crystallized as a syncretic entity before most other complexes and institutions in the emerging Tlaxcalan folk religion. Though detailed ethnohistorical evidence is lacking at present, it is fairly safe to assume that the developmental cycle of Todos Santos in the Tlaxcalan area was more or less parallel to that of the cult of the saints. The first stage was initiated shortly after 152.4, when systematic conversion began, and lasted until approximately 1550. During this rather short period, the Tlaxcalan Indians learned about the Catholic cult of the dead and identified it with and incorporated it into their own cult of the dead. The second stage started during the decade of 15 50-1560 and lasted until about 1610. During this period, the longest in this syncretic process, pre-Hispanic and Catholic elements became inextricably interrelated. The third and final stage began around 1610 and lasted approximately thirty years, for by 1640 it can be ascertained that the syncretic cycle of Todos Santos was completed, and the complex had become essentially what it is today (i960).

T H E SYNCRETIC PROCESS FROM 1524 TO

1570

The similarities, parallelisms, and convergences of the cults of the dead in the pre-Hispanic and Catholic religions are so clear-cut that a straightforward listing of them will make their potential for syncretism obvious. i. The cult of the dead occupied rather similar positions in the respective pantheons, although its theological and symbolic importance in pre-Hispanic religion was much greater than in the Catholic religion. 2. As underlings of the gods, the deified dead in the pre-Hispanic pantheon were the structural equivalents of the Catholic saints, in practice if not in theology. 3. As supernaturals of sorts, the deified dead, the saints, and by extension all Christian souls, were not endowed with power in their own right, but they were conceived of as intermediaries and intercessors before the respective gods. 4. In Catholic practice, there was no significant difference between the saints and the Christian souls in heaven, or for that matter in purgatory—hence, the combined celebration of All Saints Day and All Souls Day. Thus, the deified dead in pre-Hispanic polytheism and the 83

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saints and souls in Catholicism had the same functional and symbolic positions in the ritual and ceremony of their respective pantheons. 5. Although Hueymiccaylhuitl, the pinnacle of the cult of the dead during the pre-Hispanic year, fell in late August or early September, the second most important celebration of the dead, during the month of Quecholli, came in early November, coinciding almost exactly with the Christian combined feast of All Saints Day and All Souls Day. It was probably this celebration that was the immediate input from the preHispanic religion for the syncretic Todos Santos. 6. Regardless of the public and theological form and meaning of the cult of the dead in the respective religions, at the time of the conquest it had become centered to a high degree on the household, in Mexico as well as in Spain. 7. In both religions, the dead were pre-eminently regarded as protec­ tors of the household and were entitled to particular rites and ceremo­ nies in that capacity. 8. Food offerings, ritual consumption of food, and other ceremonies in honor of the dead were undertaken during specific days of the year: at ad hoc household altars and in the cemeteries in Catholic Spain; at household altars and oratories and in public places and temples in preHispanic Mexico. 9. During the vigil of November 1 or ζ in the Catholic religion, the souls in heaven returned in spirit to bless the households where they had died; during the last three days of Hueymiccaylhuitl in the pre-His­ panic religion, the deified dead came back to interact symbolically with their household kinsmen. The details of the processes of conversion and catechization during the critical fifty years after the conquest are well known: the adminis­ trative organization, the implementation of the basic sacraments of the church (baptism, confirmation, marriage), and the social and religious subterfuges employed by the Franciscan friars in the "spiritual con­ quest" of the Tlaxcalan area (Motolinia 1969:184-185, 208-209; Ri~ card 1947:187-229; Nutini and Bell 1980:332-334). The administra­ tion of the sacraments, mass attendance, and indoctrination in the most important feasts and celebrations of the Christian annual cycle occu­ pied most of the efforts of the friars during the first generation after the conquest. This is particularly well known for Tlaxcala from the writ­ ings of Motolinia (1969:54-74, 1903:92-108), who spent six years (1536-1539 and 1553-1556) in Tlaxcala as friar superior of the main Franciscan monastery. In detail, he describes the great rapidity of con­ version between 1527 and 1540 (Motolinia's two main manuscripts 84

TODOS SANTOS: STRUCTURE AND PROCESS

may be dated between 1540 and 1543), and the growing sophistication in the celebration of the main festivities: the Adoration of the Magi, Candlemas, Holy Week, Corpus Christi, Saint John the Baptist, Saint Peter and Saint Paul, All Saints Day and All Souls Day, and Christmas. By the middle of the sixteenth century, or soon thereafter, the great majority of Tlaxcalan Indians had been baptized and formally introduced into the Catholic church and were practicing what can be nominally regarded as Catholicism—with many misconceptions and theological "impurities," but ritually and ceremonially basically Catholic. With respect to Todos Santos, specifically, we do not know how it was presented to the Indians, how they treated it in their own religious thinking, and whether the friars played a direct role in its syncretic transformation. Again, one must emphasize the primarily private, household development of Todos Santos, as the result of the downplay of the complex's public pre-Hispanic components by all religious authorities. Much more is known about the inception and syncretic development of the feasts and liturgical celebrations with a high public component. Nevertheless, a fairly reliable picture of the syncretic development of Todos Santos can be pieced together. Describing the celebration of the main feasts of the year, with specific reference to the Tlaxcalan area, Motolinia (1969:56) says: "Los dias de los apostoles celebraban con alegria y el dia de los finandos casi por todos los pueblos de los indios dan muchas ofrendas por sus difuntos; unos ofrecen maiz, otros mantas, otros comida, pan, gallinas, y en Iugar de vino dan cacao; y su cera cada uno como puede y tiene, porque aunque son pobres, liberalmente buscan de su pobreza y sacan para un candelilla." (With happiness they celebrate All Saints Day, and in almost all villages the Indians make many offerings in honor of their dead. Some offer corn, others blankets, and still others food, bread [tortillas, tamales, or other corn products, or perhaps varieties of wheat bread], chickens [turkeys or European types of poultry], and instead of wine [most likely pulque] they offer cocoa. They offer candles according to their possibilities, for even though they are poor, they liberally search their poverty and find enough for a small candle.) Thus, barely two decades after the beginning of the conquest and fifteen years after systematic conversion had started, the Tlaxcalan Indians were honoring and worshipping the dead in a basically Catholic fashion. Even for such an acute observer as Motolinia, it was difficult to discriminate between what was pre-Hispanic and what was Catholic. Perhaps the friars did not want to discriminate, in order to inhance the success of their conversion efforts or to mask whatever part they themselves may have had in the process of syncretism. In any event, it 85

CHAPTER 3

is clear that in a short time, the first stage of the syncretic process was well advanced: that is, the structural discharge of the Catholic cult of the dead within the ideological context of the pre-Hispanic cult of the dead. Motolinia uses the words pan (bread) and gallinas (chickens) to describe some of the offerings to the dead. Most likely he refers to the preHispanic equivalents of these words, as is shown in the translation above. But if he literally meant bread and chickens, it would indicate a high rate of material acculturation. This ambivalence in translation is found in all sixteenth-century sources, and it has led to inaccurate interpretations, as Nutini and Roberts (forthcoming) demonstrate for the concepts of witchcraft and sorcery. The translation of "Los dias de los apostoles" as All Saints Day is also ambiguous; it could be translated as "the days (or feasts) of the apostles," referring not only to the twelve apostles but to any saint. If All Saints Day is the correct meaning, the implication is that All Saints Day and All Souls Day were presented to the Indians as a combined celebration, and hence that the friars did have an input in the transformation of these celebrations. If "days of the apostles" is correct, it means that the Indians were indoctrinated separately about these two liturgical feasts but chose to emphasize All Souls Day and center on it their own cult of the dead, supporting the interpretation of a spontaneous syncretic development of Todos Santos. It seems quite likely that the cult of the dead became primarily centered on All Souls Day and developed into a private, household celebration, while All Saints Day, as well as a number of other occasions, developed primarily into a public celebration, with folk-Catholic importance but probably without significant direct pre-Hispanic inputs. About forty years later (circa 1580), Duran (1967, vol. 1:269-270) wrote: De la primera causa que dije para que se llamase fiesta de muertecitos, que era para ofrecer por los minos, quiero decir Io que he visto en este tiempo el dia de Todos los Santos y el dia de los Difuntos. Y es que el dia mesmo de Todos Santos hay una ofrenda en algunas partes, y el mesmo dia de Difuntos, otra. Preguntando yo por que fin se hacia aquella ofrenda el dia de los Santos, respondieronme que ofrecian aquello por los ninos, que asi Io usaban antiguamente y habiase quedado aquella costumbre. Y preguntando si habian de ofrecer el mesmo dia de Difuntos, dijeron que si, por los grandes. Y asi Io hicieron, de Io cual a mi me peso, porque vide patentemente celebrar las fiestas de los difuntos chica y grande, y ofrecer en una, dinero, cacao, cera, aves y fruta, semillas en canti86

TODOS SANTOS: STRUCTURE AND PROCESS

dad y cosas de comida, y otro dia vide hacer Io mesmo. Y aunque esta fiesta caia por agosto, Io que imagino es que si alguna simulacion hay ο mal respeto—Io cual yo no osare afirmar—que Io han pasado a aquella fiesta de los Santos, para disimular su mal en Io que toca esta cerimonia. (Concerning the main reason that I gave for why the offerings in honor of children were called feast of the little dead, I wish to state what I have seen nowadays about All Saints Day and All Souls Day. In some places there is an offering for All Saints Day and an­ other for All Souls Day. Upon asking what was the objective of the offering on All Saints Day, they answered me that they made the offering in honor of children, that it was the way they did it in the old days and that the custom had survived. And upon asking if they made the same offering during All Souls Day, they said yes, but in honor of adults. That is the way they did it, and it saddened me, because I saw clearly the celebration of the small and great feasts of the dead, when they offered money, cocoa, candles, poul­ try, fruits, and grains in quantity, as well as food. In one of the feasts [first day] I saw the same offerings. Although this feast fell in August [obviously referring to the combined feasts of Miccailhuitontli and Hueymiccaylhuitl], what I imagine is that if there is any feigning or lack of respect—something that I will not dare af­ firm—they have passed it on to the feast of All Saints Day, in order to disguise their evil as far as this ceremony is concerned.) It appears from this passage that the second generation of Franciscan friars (and possibly the Dominicans and Augustinians who followed them) were not as lenient in allowing or fostering syncretic junctures and identifications as the first generation had been. Durdn clearly took a more stringent and orthodox view than Motolinia: what had been tolerable at the beginning for conversion purposes now was seen as in­ creasingly intolerable and dangerous. This was not inconsistent with the Franciscans' original policy of conversion, for the friars expected that, as the old religion faded from the people's consciousness, many of the initial identifications and convergences would become more ortho­ dox. Duran's account leaves no doubt that this did not exactly happen, but it also exemplifies the essence of spontaneous syncretism. Duran's reference to Todos Santos is based on data for the Valley of Mexico, but it can be safely extrapolated to Tlaxcala, for the process of conversion and catechization was the same in both areas. Barely fifty years after the initiation of conversion, the Tlaxcalan Indians had al­ ready structured the syncretic outlines of the combined feasts of All 87

CHAPTER 3

Saints Day and All Souls Day, but it still remained within a predomi­ nantly pre-Hispanic ideology, for the memory of their old cult of the dead and what it meant ritually, ceremonially, and cosmologically had not completely faded. This state of affairs characterized the second syn­ cretic stage, and from then on the ideological struggle would increas­ ingly tilt toward the Catholic side. Structurally speaking, the most significant fact of Duran's report is the establishment of November ι for the celebration of dead children and November 2 for the celebration of dead adults. This form of the cult of the dead has survived, at least in rural Tlaxcala, until the pres­ ent, although it has been elaborated in the intervening centuries and ac­ cording to pre-Hispanic conceptions, as will be discussed below. More­ over, the report obviously supports the view that the pre-Hispanic model for the syncretic Todos Santos was the sequence of the Miccailhuitontli-Hueymiccaylhuitl feasts, which fell almost entirely in August and which celebrated the cult of dead children and adults, respectively. The discrepancy in terms of date (August vs. November) does not sug­ gest any serious manipulation or transposition on the part of the Indi­ ans, for the indigenous model of Todos Santos was probably immedi­ ately triggered by the pre-Hispanic occasions that celebrated those who had died of water-related causes (in Tepeilhuitl) and those who had died in battle or their equivalents (Quecholli), which did more or less coincide with the combined feasts of All Saints Day and All Souls Day. Thus, by 1570 or thereabouts, the Tlaxcalan Indians had managed to integrate a number of structural elements of Catholic provenance and of their own ancestral religion into the concept of Todos Santos. They practiced a ritual and ceremonial complex that looked outwardly Catholic but was still guided by pre-Hispanic symbolic and ideological meaning. The main features of the Todos Santos complex had been es­ tablished: the ritual and ceremonial content of the celebration had ac­ quired a place in the Catholic cycle; the offerings to the dead had be­ come standardized; and the days for the worship of particular kinds of dead had become fixed. This general picture of Todos Santos, in a pro­ gressively elaborate form, was to remain constant for nearly four cen­ turies. Finally, it may be noted that Duran seems unwilling to believe that syncretism had been going on, but he must have known that the Indians had indeed manipulated the Catholic cult of the dead. This is clear in the tone and ambivalence of the friar's statement. However, his ac­ count also supports the contention that Todos Santos was the result not of guided syncretism but of a free process in which the Indians com­ bined more or less at will a number of Catholic and pre-Hispanic ele88

TODOS SANTOS: STRUCTURE AND PROCESS

ments. But the Franciscans do not seem to have in any way impeded the manipulations and identifications of their charges, which in any case would have been difficult to do, given the rather small number of friars engaged in conversion and catechization, the deep roots of the cult of the dead in pre-Hispanic religion, and the many parallelisms and convergences with Catholicism. In summary, the above considerations lead to the conclusion that Todos Santos became syncretized within the folk Catholicism of the Tlaxcalan area faster than perhaps any other complex in the administrative, ritual, and ceremonial organization of Catholicism. T H E MAYORDOMfA SYSTEM AND THE PUBLIC CULT OF THE DEAD

There seems to be no significant evidence in the published sources for the latter part of the second syncretic stage of Todos Santos, roughly from 1580 to 1610. However, local parochial archives contain information that bears directly on the public aspects of the cult of the dead, though not necessarily centered on All Saints Day and All Souls Day. As noted previously, the public cult of the dead did not so much develop into a syncretic entity as it became a folk manifestation of Catholicism. Whatever pre-Hispanic elements—mostly of a symbolic and ideological nature—may have been incorporated into the essentially Catholic cult of the dead, they were probably not enough to allow the resulting entity to be regarded as a syncretic complex. But the public cult of the dead in Tlaxcalan, and by extension in Mesoamerican, folk religion did become important, and it is therefore worthwhile to say something about how it developed and its relationship to Todos Santos. During the summers of 1972,1973, and 1974, Luis Reyes and I conducted a survey of the local parochial archives in the state of Tlaxcala. We partially catalogued the contents of some twenty archives, located mostly in rural municipios. The most complete and voluminous archives were found in the parish churches, which had been established by 1650 and in a few cases a decade or two earlier, as a result of the secularization of the Franciscan monasteries in Tlaxcala and most of New Spain (an event that will be discussed later in this chapter). Other valuable archives were found in churches that in the seventeenth century had been iglesias de visita (visiting churches, that is, those without a resident priest). These various parochial archives contain a variety of materials: civil documents pertaining to the social, economic, and political life of the community; religious documents on the administrative 89

CHAPTER 3

and ceremonial life of the parish; demographic and religious censuses of the community and its subdivisions; the birth, death, marriage, and, less frequently, confirmation registers of the parish; and libros de fabrica (accounts of church construction and improvements), libros de cuadrante (censuses of church tribute), and libros de cofradia (accounts and ordinances of mayordomias and sodalities). Although the majority of these bodies of documentation pertain to eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, some archives contain a significant number of documents from the seventeenth century and some from the last quarter of the sixteenth century. The libros de cofradia are of particular importance to the problem at hand. At least twelve parochial archives had such account books covering the period between the beginning of the seventeenth century until well past the middle of the eighteenth century, and four archives had books extending from the last two decades of the sixteenth century until early in the eighteenth century. These libros contained information that permits the reconstruction of the administrative, economic, and ceremonial organization of mayordomias, brotherhoods (hermandades), and sodalities (cofradias) for a number of Catholic supernatu r a l . Among them, those of highest incidence are the following: several manifestations of the Virgin Mary and of Jesus Christ; Saint John the Baptist; Saint Peter and Saint Paul; Saint Diego of Alcala, Saint Bonaventure, and other saints favored by the Franciscan order; all the blessed souls, the blessed souls in purgatory, and the blessed souls of all saints. The last category will be dealt with here, since it bears directly on the public cult of the dead. The libros de cofradia present details of expenditures, sponsoring personnel, and some of the activities of mayordomias and hermandades, and analysis of them reveals the basic structure of these important institutions of folk religion, which at that time were undergoing syncretic transformation. Among the approximately twenty archives surveyed by Reyes and me and another fifteen (most of them in iglesias de visita) surveyed by myself alone, twenty-one contained libros de cofradia of mayordomias and hermandades concerning two or three variants of the cult of the dead. From the depositories surveyed by myself alone, a sample of six was selected for analysis: three from communities that by the time of the secularization of the Franciscan monasteries (roughly 162.0-1630) had the status of parochial church with resident priest (San Luis Teolocholco, San Francisco Papalotla, and San Martin Xaltocan) and three, that of visiting church without resident priest (La Magdalena Tlaltelulco, San Bernardino Contla, and San Francisco Tet90

TODOS SANTOS: STRUCTURE AND PROCESS

lanohca). Each of these six archives had between two and four libros de cofradia on mayordomias and hermandades of the cult of the dead. (i) San Luis Teolocholco: (a) Libro de cofradia de las animas benditas ( i 6 n - i 7 4 8 ) ; ( b ) Libro de gastos de la cofradia de las animas benditas (1612-1748). (z) San Francisco Papalotla: (a) Libro de la cofradia de las animas (1628-1786); (b) Libro de la hermandad de las benditas animas del purgatorio (1670-1790); (c) Libro de cofradia de las animas de todos santos (1609-1685). (3) San Martin Xaltocan: (a) Libro de cofradia de las animas benditas del purgatorio (1590-1670); (b) Libro de la hermandad de las animas benditas (1605-1734). (4) La Magdalena Tlaltelulco: (a) Libro de cofradia de las animas benditas del purgatorio (1610-1748); (b) Cuentas de la cofradia de las animas benditas del purgatorio (1650-1785); (c) Libro de cofradia de las animas benditas (1680-1795). (5) San Bernardino Contla: (a) Libro de cofradia de las animas benditas del purgatorio (1584-1690); (b) Libro de la hermandad de las animas de la buena muerte (1597-1681); (c) Libro de la cofradia de todos santos (1602.-1765); (d) Libro de cofradia de las animas benditas (1618-1793). (6) San Francisco Tetlanohca: (a) Libro de cofradia de las benditas animas del purgatorio (1616-17Z3); (b) Libro de cuentas de la hermandad de las benditas animas del purgatorio (1643-1798); (c) Libro de la cofradia de las animas benditas (1647-1763). It should be noted that the term cofradia is somewhat ambiguous today and probably was also when the local religious government (ayuntamiento religioso) was in the process of formation. It may denote a group of officials (cofrades) in the religious hierarchy of a community, or it may be used as synonymous with mayordomia or hermandad. The term will be used here in the latter sense, for it is obvious that, for example, the Libro de cofradia de las animas benditas refers to the functions and activities of an organization dedicated to the ceremonial honoring and worship of dead souls, that is, a mayordomia or hermandad. Judging from this archival information, some ninety years after the inception of ceremonial-administrative sponsorship in Tlaxcala, the mayordomia and hermandad had the following structural and functional attributes: (a) They were organized around a number of sponsors [cargueros), whose terms of office probably lasted for a year, (b) The number of sponsors varied, but several positions had become fixed and were known by standardized names, (c) From individual Catholic supernaturals (advocations of the Virgin Mary or manifestations of Je91

CHAPTER 3

sus Christ), the concept of ritual sponsorship had become extended to important events in the annual cycle, such as Holy Week and All Saints Day. (d) There were ritual and ceremonial functions and activities spaced throughout the year, but their climax occurred on a specific day or days intimately associated with the supernatural occasion of the sponsorship, (e) The economic aspects of ritual sponsorship were specified, and they involved mainly costs of flowers, candles, incense, and other expendable items; of vestments, pallia, church ornaments, and other paraphernalia; and of ceremonial food and banquets, (f) There was an organic and well-recognized relationship of ritual sponsorship to the folk religion and the organization of the community at large. These attributes were the property not only of the mayordomias and hermandades concerned with the cult of the dead but of all the mayordomias and hermandades of the emerging folk religion. Whatever differences there were among mayordomias and hermandades cannot be established on the basis of the libros de cofradia and other documentation in parochial archives. But if one can extrapolate from the contemporary situation, the differences were minimal. In short, by the time the secularization of the Franciscan monasteries was achieved, the mayordomia and hermandad system had more or less achieved the form, content, and place that they still exhibit today in Tlaxcalan folk religion. The prototype of ritual and ceremonial sponsorship was the cult of the patron saint, followed soon after by mayordomia sponsorship of a number of advocations of the Virgin Mary and manifestations of Jesus Christ. When the above account was completed, in 1974 (Nutini and Bell 1980), the analysis of the content of the libros de cofradia and other sixteenth- and seventeenth-century documents found in Tlaxcalan parochial archives had not yet begun. The large number of mayordomias and hermandades concerned with the cult of the dead at the community level indicates that these ritual and ceremonial sponsorships developed together with, and possibly with the same degree of importance as, the various sponsorships of the Virgin Mary and Jesus Christ. This is not surprising, given the centrality of the cult of the dead in the polytheistic system and the great concern with bloodshed and death of the people of Central Mexico. These are the factors that led to the more spontaneous development of the private and public cults of the dead: the former syncretically (because at the household level, identifications, parallelisms, and convergences were permitted, perhaps fostered, in the early stages of conversion); the latter mostly within the emerging folk-Catholic context (because of the polytheistic overtones of the pre-Hispanic cult of the dead, which had to be suppressed). 92

TODOS SANTOS: STRUCTURE AND PROCESS T H E SYNCRETIC PROCESS FROM 1570

TO

1610

The libros de cofradia yield much information about the occasions as­ sociated with the cult of the dead. The mayordomias and hermandades of the cult of the dead had specific days on which worship reached a climax: November ζ for the blessed souls of all saints (las animas benditas de todos santos), October 31 for the blessed souls in purgatory (las animas benditas del pur gatorio). In addition, the mayordomias and hermandades were involved in a number of other ritual and ceremonial occasions throughout the year. These included events organized by the mayordomias or hermandades themselves, such as processions, masses, rosaries, candle ceremonies in the church and the cemetery, vigils, and so on, at fixed or variable times; and similar events in which they participated in a role subsidiary to other mayordomias or herman­ dades—for example, the mayordomia de las animas benditas del purgatorio of San Bernardino Contla was an important adjunct to the celebration of Holy Week, which was coordinated by another mayordomia. An instructive case is the hermandad de las animas de la buena muerte (brotherhood of the souls of proper—or peaceful, or saintly— dying) in the community of San Bernardino Contla. This hermandad sponsors all the blessed souls—that is, the souls of all persons who have died in a state of grace and have gone directly to heaven. The propitia­ tion of the blessed souls in this particular advocation is associated with the protection and help that these privileged souls can afford to those who are about to die, and die well, that is, peacefully. In addition, the cult of the animas de la buena muerte has some decidedly fertility-in­ tensifying overtones. During its periodic vigils and candle ceremonies, both in the church and in the house of the mayordomos, the sponsors as well as people at large may bring fruits and vegetables. The under­ lying belief is that the blessed souls protect the crops and make them mature. This is unquestionably a pre-Hispanic belief, although it may also have been inherent in sixteenth-century Spanish folk Catholicism. It hardly needs to be said that this observation of the cult of the dead is not liturgically sanctioned by the church. Two important points must be noted here. First, the continuity of this particular hermandad for nearly four centuries is attested to by the libros de cofradia, which begin in 1597 and extend through 1961. Such complete documentation is rare, given the neglect of the local archives and the upheavals of Mexico's stormy history. But there are other her­ mandades and mayordomias of even greater antiquity; for example, the libro de confradia of the mayordomia de las animas benditas del 93

CHAPTER 3

purgatorio in the same community of Contla begins in 15 84. More surprising is the continuity of form and content of this hermandad; its organizational sponsorship and functions and its activities have remained essentially unchanged. Again, the same obtains for a number of other hermandades and mayordomias. Second, the date of the climax of the ritual and ceremonial activity of this hermandad became established at the end of the sixteenth century and has remained the same until today. It is always the last Friday in August. At first sight, it seems like any of the other days that, for reasons and associations now largely lost, the folk Catholicism of many areas of Mexico specifies for the cult of the dead. In rural Tlaxcala, for example, these dates are January 5, February 2, June 2.6, and December 16, in addition, of course, to the combined feast of Todos Santos, which is always the most important occasion. It is no coincidence, however, that the last Friday in August falls toward the end of the pre-Hispanic month of Xocotl Huetzi, during the last three days of which the cult of the dead, Hueymiccaylhuitl, reached its peak. Rather, the cult of the animas de la buena muerte is a spontaneous Indian manifestation in honor and remembrance of the old cult of the dead in its most elaborate form, but within an essentially Catholic context. There are two reasons for this assertion. First, the contemporary erection of the tree-cross, described above, is associated with the animas de la buena muerte, and although the custom has disappeared from Contla, it continues in other communities, such as San Isidro Buen Suceso and San Salvador Tzompantepec, under the direction of their mayordomias de las animas de la buena muerte. During the twenty days that the tree-cross remains in the cemetery, the mayordomos and attendants of the mayordomias have the obligation of looking after it and replacing the offering if it is damaged by animals or the weather. Second, the fertility overtones of the cult of the animas de la buena muerte are clearly manifested in the fact that when the last Friday in August falls on the 30th—as occurs every seven years or so—and coincides with the burning of the tree-cross on the twentieth day after its erection, it is considered a very good omen, and the people believe that the forthcoming harvest will be particularly plentiful. The central theme of the discussion so far has been that the cults of the dead developed in a syncretic fashion at the private, household level, whereas in the wider, public context they developed chiefly as a folk manifestation of Catholicism. This differentiation cannot be pushed too far, however, for the foregoing analysis demonstrates that the public development of Todos Santos did entail pre-Hispanic inputs, which are simply more difficult to detect, given the primarily folk94

TODOS SANTOS: STRUCTURE AND PROCESS

Catholic context of the complex. The intention here is not to minimize the importance of the public cult of the dead, but only to point out that, despite a number of persisting beliefs of pre-Hispanic origin, it did not develop into a syncretic entity. Thus, the feast of the animas de la buena muerte on the last Friday in August is essentially folk Catholic, al­ though it is reminiscent of a pre-Hispanic feast of the dead and is un­ derlain by a polytheistic belief. Similarly, the ritual and ceremonial ac­ tivity that takes place on January 5, February z, June z6, and December 16 is also folk Catholic, but it, too, is probably related to pre-Hispanic beliefs and occasions concerning the cult of the dead, although the question has not been explored for those dates. The statement that the public cult of the dead was "centered" on All Saints Day and the household cult of the dead on All Souls Day was meant to imply only that the peak of the former celebration fell on No­ vember ι and the peak of the latter on November z. The syncretic and folk Catholicism of rural Tlaxcala today, and probably as early as the first two decades of the seventeenth century, does not distinguish among different kinds of dead souls (those in heaven, those in purga­ tory, and those of the saints) at the ideological level. The people believe that they all perform basically the same functions: as intermediaries, in­ tercessors, and intensifiers on behalf of living humans before the higher supernaturals. But there is a division of labor by age (infants, children, and adults), expressed by the different dates on which dead souls are worshipped: on February z, for the proper maturation of the crops and the well-being of individual members of the household; on June z6, for the protection of individuals, especially children, against evil anthro­ pomorphic supernaturals; on December 16, for the protection of prop­ erty and the collective health of the household; and so on. Structurally, however, the household cult of the dead is centered on All Souls Day and adjacent days, while the public cult of the dead extends throughout the year. In other words, the overall cult of the dead in its Catholic con­ text constitutes a unitary ideological system, but structurally, its public component is more diversified and essentially folk, while its household, private component is more focused and thoroughly syncretic. The evidence of the libros de cofradia shows that this diversification and division of labor in the cult of the dead arose in the early decades of the seventeenth century. Even at that early date, the public cult of the dead was discharged mainly within the context of a mayordomia or hermandad. (Most public forms of the cult of the dead did have some private components; for example, in the case of the animas de la buena muerte, the sponsoring mayordomia propitiated in church on behalf of the entire community at the same time that many households propi95

CHAPTER 3

tiated the same souls individually.) From this viewpoint, one could say that the public cult of the dead is really as much a part of the mayordomia system and the ayuntamiento religioso as it is of the Todos Santos complex. From this viewpoint also, the public cult of the dead acquires a syncretic dimension, as the mayordomia system developed out of the blending of administrative and ceremonial complexes of pre-Hispanic and Spanish Catholic origins (Nutini and Bell 1980:305-331). Moreover, it should be pointed out that a number of beliefs and practices of the pre-Hispanic cult of the dead have survived until today. They were never syncretized nor did they enter into the folk-Catholic cult of the dead and the mayordomia system. Rather, they are found today in the sometimes extensive pagan magical complex (witchcraft, sorcery, curing, tutelary mountain owners, and anthropomorphic supernaturalism in general) that has coexisted with Tlaxcalan syncretic-folk Catholicism ever since it crystallized around the middle of the seventeenth century. There is one final observation to be made about the public cult of the dead. It has been traditional in Tlaxcala, and probably in most areas of Mesoamerica, that mayordomias and hermandades of particular Catholic supernaturals are physically represented by images (paintings, sculptures, or statues) of the sponsored objects. This is also the case with the blessed souls in purgatory, which are represented in a number of forms: cruces de Animas (blessed-souls crosses), painted wooden crosses set on broad bases on which the blessed souls are depicted wailing in the flames of purgatory with their arms outstretched toward the Savior on the cross; wooden and plaster sculptures with basically the same pictorial theme; lithographs and oils on canvas, wood, and lamina (tin), in which the wailing souls in the flames of purgatory are usually looking hopefully toward the Holy Trinity depicted at the top of the painting; and a number of variations on these themes. Otherwise, however, blessed souls, the souls of the saints, the animas de la buena muerte, and other manifestations of dead souls are never physically represented. Physical representations of the blessed souls in purgatory apparently denote and symbolize all the different objects of the cult of the dead; the blessed souls in purgatory are regarded by the people as the best intermediaries, intercessors, and intensifiers on their behalf. It is a measure of the importance of the cult of the blessed souls in purgatory, and its symbolic extensions, that the images are almost invariably found in the family altars of rural Tlaxcalan households. The private cult of the dead is centered on these images, and on frequent occasions the family gathers around them for rosaries, prayers, vigils, and candle ceremonies, occasionally concomitantly with the functions and activities of the public cult of the dead. Whether these beliefs and 96

TODOS SANTOS: STRUCTURE AND PROCESS

practices had become established by the early seventeenth century is impossible to determine, but the physical representation of the blessed souls in purgatory most certainly had. Cruces de dnimas in Tlaxcalan households can be dated as early as 16x4. Public images of the blessed souls in purgatory go back even further. In the church of Santa Maria Atlihuetzian there is today an oil-on-wood retablo (retable, altarpiece) from about 1576, one of the oldest in the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley. According to Desiderio H. Xochitiotzin (personal communication), it was probably commissioned for the local Franciscan monastery, removed from there when the monastery was abandoned sometime after the middle of the seventeenth century, and then placed in the church, which was finished circa 1680. In one of the lower panels of the retable, there is a good representation of the blessed souls in purgatory. It is quite likely that this was the prototype of the innumerable public and private representations that followed. A paucity of documentation precludes an account of the development of the private cult of the dead parallel to the one that has been presented of the development of the public cult of the dead. But these two aspects of the cult are obviously not entirely separate, and it is therefore possible to extrapolate with a fair degree of accuracy. During this period, Todos Santos became established in Tlaxcala as the peak of the ritual and ceremonial elaboration of the cult of the dead. Centered on the combined liturgical feasts of All Saints Day and All Souls Day, it acquired a significant measure of independence, as its form and content had become outwardly Catholic, while the syncretic process had advanced to the point where pre-Hispanic ideological inputs were no longer efficacious. In other words, already syncretized pre-Hispanic beliefs concerning the cult of the dead were by the end of the second stage operating within an essentially Catholic matrix, which itself had undergone structural syncretization. The polytheistic religion which had supported the old cult of the dead had been largely forgotten, and what remained were disjointed beliefs and practices, which by then were already becoming part of the parallel pagan complex that survived syncretization. The syncretic cycle of Todos Santos perhaps could have been completed during the first two decades of the seventeenth century, but actually another three or four decades were to pass before this was achieved, primarily because of new socioreligious conditions.

T H E SETTING FOR THE CRYSTALLIZATION OF T O D O S SANTOS

Strictly speaking, "Todos Santos" is not an accurate term for the combined feasts of All Saints Day and All Souls Day. "Todos Santos" is the Spanish for All Saints Day, while "Dia de Muertos" (and its variants) 97

CHAPTER 3

is the Spanish for All Souls Day. However, the most common meaning given to Todos Santos in Mexico, and probably in most of Latin Amer­ ica, is the household, private cult of the dead, centered on (though not limited to) November ι and 2, and it is in that sense, and for that rea­ son, that the term is used in this monograph. Todos Santos can also in­ clude the public cult of the dead in the folk Catholicism of many parts of Mesoamerica, because there are a number of mayordomias and hermandades whose sponsoring objects are the souls of all saints. This is not the case with the three-to-five-day sequence of the Dia de Muertos, which celebrates all the different kinds of souls without distinction, and it could hardly be expected that such a diversified set of souls would be sponsored by a general mayordomia or hermandad. As far as is known, there are no sponsorships centered on All Souls Day; rather, there are a number of mayordomias and hermandades of specific kinds of dead souls, whose peak of ceremonial and ritual elaboration generally does not fall on November 2. These provisos should be kept in mind as we turn to a discussion of the final syncretic stage. At the outset it must be emphasized that the crystallization of the public as well as the household components of Todos Santos is an in­ tegral part of other syncretic institutions of Tlaxcalan folk religion, es­ pecially of the ayuntamiento religioso. The five major components or domains of Tlaxcalan folk Catholicism, of which the cult of the dead is one (see the introduction), developed at somewhat different rates, but by the second half of the seventeenth century they all had crystallized into an organic religious system that remained basically unchanged for more than two and a half centuries. These problems have been dealt with elsewhere (Nutini and Bell 1980:322-331), and the following dis­ cussion will take up only those considerations directly related to the maturation of Todos Santos. Throughout the sixteenth century, the Franciscan friars were in com­ plete charge of the conversion and indoctrination of the Indians in Tlaxcala. Early in the seventeenth century, however, the secular priests, jealous of the Franciscans' monopoly, began to assert themselves as re­ ligious leaders in Indian communities. The economic and political rea­ sons for this change have been discussed elsewhere (Nutini and Bell 1980:322-326). Suffice it to say here that the priests' efforts were sup­ ported by the encomenderos (grantees of Indian labor) and other Span­ ish colonists; these elements of colonial society had always felt that the friars were an obstacle to their economic interests because they pre­ vented a more thorough exploitation of the Indian population. With­ out minimizing the fact that, by the end of the sixteenth century, the friars (in the Tlaxcala-Pueblan area, and perhaps even more so in other 98

TODOS SANTOS: STRUCTURE AND PROCESS

parts of New Spain) had become concerned with power for its own sake and had become involved in serious internal dissension, up until then they had indeed protected the Indians from the extremes of exploitation. By their interest in and identification with the Indian population, they had softened some of the harshest aspects of the early stages of the conquest and colonization of New Spain. However, the final syncretic stage of the ayuntamiento religioso in general, and of Todos Santos in particular, took place during the change in religious leadership from the regular orders to the secular priesthood. While the friars were in charge of ministering to the religious needs of the converted Indians, they functioned not only as spiritual leaders, but also as administrators and organizers of a variety of socioreligious activities at the village level. They visited their communities once or twice a week and often asked visiting clerics to help them under their direct supervision. The friars also participated actively in local community projects and advised community officials on the conduct of relations with the outside world. In short, the friars were effective leaders who extended their influence far beyond their strictly religious ministry. They served as a force for integrating the members of the ayuntamiento religioso into a set of positions with specific functions, coordination remaining in the hands of the friars. They also appear to have been quite tolerant of spontaneous indigenous manifestations as long as they were couched in a fairly Catholic form and did not obviously contravene Christian morality and sensibility. For nearly four generations, with a Franciscan sense of community and commensality, the friars strove to understand the religious outlook of the Indians and seldom forced orthodox Catholicism upon them without allowing a measure of self-expression. It is this general attitude that made possible the spontaneous syncretic structuring of Todos Santos and perhaps other folk complexes. All of this changed when the friars lost control of the Indian communities. Between 1600 and 1630, the spiritual leadership and church administration of Indian communities passed into the hands of secular clerics who did not have the interests of the Indian population at heart, who had little knowledge of Indian affairs, and who were often motivated more by a desire for economic gain than by the spiritual needs of their flocks. It must be added that, not only in Tlaxcala but throughout New Spain, the new religious leaders were not nearly as intellectually able as the first two generations of mendicant friars, nor did the former come close to emulating the brilliant ethnohistorical and linguistic achievements of the latter. Since the secular priests were not as conscientious as the friars about making their weekly visits or fulfilling their 99

CHAPTER 3

general duties and obligations toward the iglesias de visita, the quality and extensiveness of Catholic life and the indoctrination of the Tlax­ calan Indians unquestionably had been significantly reduced by the middle of the seventeenth century. These were the conditions in which the final stage of the syncretic cycle of Tlaxcalan folk Catholicism took place. As the friars lost con­ trol to the secular priests, the Indian communities were left more and more to their own devices. It thus became necessary to restructure the ayuntamiento religioso, the organization of rituals and ceremonies, and the coordination among the religious complexes in order to fill the vacuum. When the friars had finally departed from the local Indian communities, Tlaxcalan folk Catholicism became an organic whole, a mature, self-regulating system functioning independently of the visiting priests and capable of organizing a large segment of the community's culture and society. In this scheme of things, the priest was still essential as a dispenser of ritual, perhaps as an occasional counselor, and as a symbolic and substantive validation of the local folk religion vis-a-vis the wider colonial society, but he was no longer a pivotal administra­ tive and organizing figure. Having completed its syncretic cycle around the middle of the sev­ enteenth century, local folk Catholicism, probably more than any other aspect of the culture and society of rural Tlaxcala, remained stable for the next three centuries. The cycle is most appropriately analyzed in terms of its major component institutions and domains (see Nutini and Isaac 1974; Nutini 1976, 1984, n.d.; Nutini and Bell 1980), and from this viewpoint, the cult of the saints, the mayordomia system, the ayun­ tamiento religioso, the compadrazgo system, and the cult of the dead constituted, and still constitute, the coherent entity that was folk Ca­ tholicism. As institutions and specifiable domains, these elements reached syncretic maturity within a forty-year span, roughly from 1640 to 1680. T H E CRYSTALLIZATION OF T O D O S SANTOS, Ι 610-1660

It has already been pointed out that the public component of Todos Santos was an integral part of the mayordomia system. The latter was, in turn, a constituent of the ayuntamiento religioso. All local mayordomias and hermandades whose objects were the various kinds of dead souls were regulated by the officials of the ayuntamiento religioso on behalf of the community at large. Thus, as the mayordomia system and the ayuntamiento religioso became organically structured independ­ ently of the friars and then of the secular priests, local religious officials, 100

TODOS SANTOS: STRUCTURE AND PROCESS

and probably the community as a whole, found increased opportunities for spontaneous inputs and innovations. It is in this essentially open, communal context that Tlaxcalan folk Catholicism crystallized. The mayordomias and hermandades concerned with the various aspects of the cult of the dead associated with fixed occasions of the annual cycle became organic entities in their own right and acquired ritual and ceremonial associations with other mayordomias and hermandades. Religious officials and other members of the community significantly altered the practices of the cult of the dead that had developed under the leadership of the Franciscan friars. They innovated on their own, within the framework of contemporary folk Catholicism, and, more importantly, they reactivated ritual and ceremonial elements that had been dormant, or had been practiced sub rosa, since the beginning of conversion. The origin of a number of syncretized elements of pre-Hispanic origin can be traced to this period; for example, the erection of the tree-cross in the cemetery and a few other rites and ceremonies that will be discussed below (Ruiz de Alarcon 1953:36-40). By the middle of the seventeenth century or soon thereafter, Todos Santos, and most other aspects of Tlaxcalan folk Catholicism, looked very much like what the ethnographer could record in many Tlaxcalan communities as recently as a generation ago. Again, Todos Santos proper, that is, the household-centered cult of the dead, crystallized rather earlier than other components of Tlaxcalan folk Catholicism, assuming its basic form by the first or second decade of the seventeenth century. Subsequently, however, like the public cult of the dead, it underwent certain ritual and ceremonial innovations. By 1650 at the latest, the household component of Todos Santos had essentially become what it is today. The evidence on which the statements about the public component of Todos Santos are based comes from the local parochial archives, especially the libros de cofradia. These documents also indicate that by the middle of the seventeenth century, a significant rift had developed between orthodox and folk Catholicism, that is, between the secular clergy and the local religious hierarchies (Nutini and Bell 1980:322), which corroborates the contention that Todos Santos and local folk Catholicism as a whole had undergone changes of the kind described above. Unfortunately, similar confirmatory claims cannot be made concerning the household component of Todos Santos. A reconstruction of the household component of Todos Santos must be based on extrapolation from the contemporary ethnographic situation and from occasional hints in the archival documents. It must therefore be regarded as tentative. 101

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The most valuable of the published sources concerning the seventeenth century is volume 6 of the Annals of the National Museum of Anthropology, which appeared in 1892 under the editorship of Francisco del Paso y Troncoso, one of the leading Mexican ethnohistorians of the nineteenth century. The volume was entitled Tratado de las idolatrias, supersticiones, dioses, ritos, hechicerias y otras costumbres genttlicas de las razas aborigenes de Maxico (Treatise on the Idolatries, Superstitions, Gods, Rites, Sorceries, and Other Pagan Customs of the Indigenous Peoples of Mexico), and it was a compilation of six reports and accounts (informes and relaciones) written by clergymen between 1615 and 1656 but not formally published until the time of Paso y Troncoso. (The work was reissued in two volumes in 1953.) Two of these reports are relevant to the present analysis: those by Hernando Ruiz de Alarcon (1953) and by Jacinto de la Serna (1953). Although neither of them contains any direct references to the Tlaxcalan region, they do deal with the Nahuatl-speaking areas of the Central Mexican highlands, Ruiz de Alarcon with several parts of what are now the states of Guerrero, Morelos, and Puebla, and Serna mostly with the valleys of Mexico and Toluca. There are other contemporary sources for the first half of the seventeenth century, but they are not as informative and extensive as these two. Moreover, Ruiz de Alarcon and Serna are representative priest-scholars of the secular clergy that replaced the mendicant friars in the continuing indoctrination of the Indians of New Spain. Ruiz de Alarcon had been the resident priest (cura parroco) of the parish of Atenango, in what is now the state of Guerrero, for at least twelve years before writing his treatise in 1629. Atenango had a large network of visiting churches, and Ruiz de Alarcon thus became acquainted with the Nahuatl-speaking people of the area. As he says in the prologue to his work (Ruiz de Alarcon 1953:21), his aim was not to present an exhaustive description of Indian customs, but to warn other visiting priests about the superstitions and corruptions of Indian Catholicism, so that they could take the necessary measures to prevent them. His sources of information were his own observations and the experience of his ministry, accounts by other observers, and contemporary and sixteenth-century ethnohistorical sources. In some 160 printed pages, Ruiz de Alarcon manages to give a good account of the pagan and unorthodox religious and magical practices of Nahuatlspeaking Indians (which were probably similar to those of Indians of other linguistic groups in Central Mexico). He exhibits first-hand knowledge of contemporary anthropomorphic supernaturalism (witchcraft, sorcery, and nahualism), a pagan complex that had under102

TODOS SANTOS: STRUCTURE AND PROCESS

gone a modicum of syncretism in its own right a hundred years after the conquest (Nutini and Roberts, forthcoming). He emphasizes the survival of amaranth as a symbolic and propitiating element in Indian religion and as a threat to the continuing indoctrination of the Indians. Perhaps the most notable contribution of Ruiz de Alarcon is his discussion of stimulant (tobacco) and hallucinogenic (ololiuhqui or cuexpalli and peyote) plants. His discussion of ololiuhqui is outstanding. Ololiuhqui are the seeds of the climbing, twining, creeping vine commonly known as "morning glory" (gloria de la manana or tnanto de la Virgen in Spanish). Three species of morning glory are native to central and southern Mexico (Ipomoea lean, I. purpurea, and I. tricolor), and ololiuhqui probably included all three. Ruiz de Alarcon (1953:2.8-34, 4353) gives a comprehensive description of its symbolic, divinatory, and medicinal uses. The bulk of the treatise of Ruiz de Alarcon (1953:59-180) is concerned with the ahueros (omens, auguries), conjuros (conjurations, exorcisms), and sortilegios (sortileges, divinations) that were such an important part of pre-Hispanic culture and influenced so many activities and domains of daily life. His account and others' leave no doubt that this aspect of pre-Hispanic culture had survived with considerable strength a century after the conquest. Although Ruiz de Alarcon must be credited as being a good observer, it is often impossible to determine whether he was describing contemporary beliefs and practices or unwarrantedly extrapolating from those of the pre-Hispanic era. He obviously knows the sixteenth-century sources, although he seldom cites them. The last part of the treatise (Ruiz de Alarcon 1953:133-180) is an account of Indian medical and medicinal practices, emphasizing, naturally enough, the accompanying supernatural beliefs. But Ruiz de Alarcon fails to distinguish between the Indians' supernatural beliefs and their empirical medical practices, which were probably only slightly less scientific than the Spanish medical practices of the time. What is most interesting for us in this account is the evident blending of Indian and Spanish medical practices that had already taken place, which Ruiz de Alarcon either missed or did not want to acknowledge, out of contempt for what he regarded as the low cultural level of his subjects. Practices such as bloodletting, cupping, a kind of acupuncture, and a number of others were unquestionably indulged in by the Spanish and Creole segments of the colonial society of New Spain, and Ruiz de Alarcon (1953:152-155, 166-167) w a s probably too blinded by the accompanying supernatural beliefs to have noticed the parallelism. 103

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There is only one brief reference to the cult of the dead in Ruiz de Alarcon (1953:58),and that is made in connection with the magical belief in the number four. He says that the Indians have a custom of setting up a lighted candle or pouring a vessel of water on the tombs of the dead for four consecutive days. However, he also describes (Ruiz de Alarcon 1953:35-40) a number of surviving elements of the pre-Hispanic cult of the mountains that took place during the months of Tlaxochimaco, Xocotl Huetzi, and Tepeilhuitl, and it is likely that the cult of the dead had in one form or another survived within the context of the cult of the mountains and its agricultural propitiatory complex, as described in chapter 2. The survival of the ceremonial use of amaranth and the ritual manufacture of effigies made of tzoalli seem to indicate this, but it should be realized that this aspect of the cult of the dead fell outside of the syncretic development of Todos Santos, becoming rather a part of the pagan complex of beliefs and practices that found a niche parallel to syncretic folk Catholicism. In contrast to Ruiz de Alarcon, Serna was essentially an armchair scholar, despite the fact that he was for a few years resident priest of the parish of Xalatlaco, in what is now the state of Mexico, and for many years visitador general (inspector general) of the then immense archbishopric of Mexico. Later in life, he was parish priest of the Sagrario Metropolitano (a large chapel adjacent to the cathedral) in Mexico City and three times rector of the University of Mexico. Serna had a doctoral degree in theology, and, as one would expect, he was heavy on pontification and light on observable ethnographic detail. Like Ruiz de Alarcon, and as the name of his work indicates, Serna's manual's main objective was to spread the knowledge of Indian pagan customs and idolatries among visiting priests in order for them to be more effective in preventing deviations from Catholic practice. The sources of Serna's information were similar to those of Ruiz de Alarcon, except that his own observations, as visiting priest and inspector general, account for probably less than a fourth of the manual. Most of his information came from accounts of other scholars (mostly friars and clerics), from approximately i 6 i o t o 1650, and from the sixteenth-century sources on pre-Hispanic culture. Of the 3 zo printed pages of Serna's manual, at least 100 are reinterpretations of these sources, especially the description of the pre-Hispanic calendar (Serna 1953:117-181) and polytheistic beliefs and practices (Serna 1953:182-206). The same number of pages are devoted to Indian medical and medicinal practices and to the vast array of omens, exorcisms, and sortileges, mostly based on information gathered by others. He relies heavily on Ruiz de Alarcon, but he also gives credit to a number of priests and friars who had been ac104

TODOS SANTOS: STRUCTURE AND PROCESS

tive from the last two decades of the sixteenth century until well into the seventeenth, such as the friars Juan de Torquemada (Serna 1953:207) and Martin de Leon (Serna 1953:233). Serna repeats much of what Ruiz de Alarcon had said concerning witchcraft, sorcery, nahualism, stimulant and hallucinogenic plants, the uses of amaranth, and medical practices. Even aside from the fact that Serna spends many pages of the manual quoting the church fathers in order to "refute" Indian pagan and idolatrous practices, his work is essentially derivative and does not contribute much to our reconstruction of Indian magic and religion beyond the work of Ruiz de Alarcon. Again, there is a single reference to the cult of the dead in the manual (Serna 1953:68-69). Serna says that the Indians offered food and drink to the dead, that the dead were buried with victuals (matalotaje) for the journey into the afterlife, that adults were buried with new clean clothes, and that children were interred with a tube of milk on their chest for sustenance. Serna goes on to say that the Indians "adulterated" the Christian celebration of All Souls Day.1 They make offerings and light candles in their households at night (probably during the vigil of November 2), for they believe that the souls of the dead will return on that night and partake of the food and drink. After a ceremonial banquet (Serna naively interprets the offerings by saying derisively that the people themselves consume the food and drink and not the departed souls), the Indians make the same offerings and light candles in the visiting churches and in the barrios not visited by priests. Serna concludes the passage by saying that when the mass in honor of all the blessed souls is officiated (on November 2), the Indians have spent everything and nothing is left for candles. Several points about this account are worth remarking on. First, with the exception that both adults and children are buried with food and drink for the journey after death in typical pre-Hispanic fashion, the elements of the Indian celebration of Todos Santos as described by Serna fall within the range of the beliefs and practices of Spanish folk Catholicism well into the sixteenth century. As, presumably, a strict theologian, he chose to emphasize the orthodox view of Todos Santos at the expense of its folk dimensions, which were quite likely practiced by other sectors of sixteenth-century colonial society (Indians in urban environments, and Mestizos and Creoles). From the present perspective, this is a good, albeit inconclusive, indication of how well syncretized the cult of the dead had become by the middle of the seventeenth century. Second, the practice of burying children and adults with food and drink, and the belief underlying it, had also become a syncretized element of the cult of the dead, and it has survived until today, as I have 105

CHAPTER 3

myself observed. In several communities of the Sierra de Puebla and the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley (San Juan Nexpanateno, San Nicolas Niacapan, San Mateo Ozoloco), children and adults are buried with some items of food, generally placed inside the coffin, especially baked bread for adults and cookies and chocolate for children. Third, although it is impossible to put a precise date on this particular piece of information, it probably refers to sometime between 1640 and 1650. Serna's rather bitter comment that the Indians cared more about their own rites and ceremonies than about the orthodox celebration of Todos Santos is an indication that local folk Catholicism had already acquired its basic form. Evidently, once the community had discharged the rites and ceremonies that were largely of its own design, the people demonstrated little interest in the orthodox discharge of religion. This attitude contains the essence of Indian folk Catholicism, and in many regions of Mesoamerica it appears to have remained constant until today. As a corollary, a rift between the priest and the local religious hierarchy was opened, and, at least in Tlaxcala, it too has remained ever since. T H E FRIARS AND THE SECULAR PRIESTS

Ruiz de Alarcon and Serna were representative of the change in the religious leadership of Indian communities from mendicant friars to secular priests, a change that brought a number of important consequences. The social, economic, and demographic contexts and the religious aims and constraints of the sixteenth-century friars were different from those of the seventeeth-century priests. These manifold differences must be kept in mind in assessing their respective intellectual achievements and religious successes and failures. The spiritual conquest of Mesoamerica was one of the more humane episodes in the conquest and colonization of the New World by the Spaniards. The mendicant friars of the two generations following the conquest (best represented by Sahagun, Motolinia, and Duran) in Central Mexico were generally compassionate, understanding, dedicated, courageous, and intellectually able. They identified with the Indian population, learned their languages, understood their problems, and often took their side in their conflicts with the encomenderos over possession of land, thereby mitigating the most adverse aspects of the conquest and colonization of this part of New Spain. They were also aware that, if they were to convert the Indians to Catholicism, they had to have a thorough understanding of pre-Hispanic life. In this endeavor, they amassed an invaluable ethnographic record of pre-Hispanic culture and society, which was not surpassed until the rise of modern an106

TODOS SANTOS: STRUCTURE AND PROCESS

thropology in the second half of the nineteenth century. The work of Sahagun (1956), for example, is a monumental achievement, one of the greatest ethnographies of all time. By comparison, the seventeenth-century secular priests and clerics, like Ruiz de Alarcon and Serna, come off rather poorly, from both humane and intellectual points of view. With some exceptions, compassion, understanding, and ethnographic knowledge of their charges were conspicuously absent. The secular priests were most noticeably lacking in identification with the Indians and their socioeconomic plight and in the discharge of religious duties as visiting priests in remote communities. While the mendicant friars had lived in more or less continuous contact with their flocks, secular priests seldom serviced their visitas and were often "absentee pdrrocos." Moreover, it appears that, unconstrained by vows of poverty, the priests were not above engaging in economic exploitation of Indian population. The term beneficiado (beneficiary) was often applied to the parish priest, suggesting that it was he who benefited religiously from the saving of souls and the administration of the Catholic faith to the Indian population of the partido (a parish church together with a varying number of visiting churches) over which he had jurisdiction. Actually, the term would have been just as apt in its economic denotation. Except for a modicum of free labor, the friars had been minimally dependent on their Indian congregations for economic subsistence. The new priests, on the other hand, were entirely dependent on their flocks for economic subsistence, and their manner of living demanded considerably more expenditures than had been the case with the friars. Conditions led in time to such abuses as overcharging for both routine services (baptisms, responses, marriages) and special services (certain masses, participation in processions), inordinate use of free Indian labor, and so on. 2 Even if not all the friars had been dedicated, and compassionate— even if, indeed, they had themselves begun to engage in some abuses toward the end of the sixteenth century—it is still the case that the secularization of congregations did not improve the lot of the Indians. The change in leadership was supposed to put an end to the semi-independent congregations, require priests to reside in the parishes (whereas the friars had operated out of their monasteries), and in general bring the Indians into more intimate contact with the priests. These aims were by and large not realized, because of the absenteeism, venality, and lack of interest of the majority of the priests. Indian Catholicism became increasingly village centered, and the Indians never felt as close to the priests as they had to the friars. It is in this climate of relative isolation 107

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that syncretism crystallized and Indian folk Catholicism acquired its basic form. The ways in which the new religious leaders differed from the old are clearly reflected in the work of Ruiz de Alarcon and Serna and in a number of documents from Tlaxcalan parochial archives.3 On the basis of this evidence, it appears that the priests were on the whole a prejudiced, unempathic, self-righteous, and intellectually unimaginative lot. They applied to the Indians such terms as miserables (miserable ones), mentirosos (liars), hipocritas (hipocrites), obtusos (obtuse ones), and faltos de talento (stupid, lacking in talent). Ruiz de Alarcon and Serna themselves lacked that Franciscan humility and Dominican intellectual curiosity that so marked the work of Motolinia and Sahagun. They were not interested in identifying those religious junctures that would have allowed them to change the pagan survivals that they had observed or had been reported to them, as the early friars had done so successfully. Moreover, they had no understanding of the process of syncretism that had been going on for a century, which had been fostered or at least tolerated by the mendicant friars. This lack of understanding led the priest-scholars to suggest the eradication of pagan beliefs and practices by brutal or radical means (Serna 1953:357-368), which the mendicant friars had not contemplated, except for beliefs and practices totally abhorrent to Catholicism, such as human sacrifice and polygyny. In the end, the often sound advice offered to visiting priests and clerics by Ruiz de Alarcon and Serna about how to eliminate idolatry, weaken the hold of pagan beliefs and customs, and bring the Indians closer to the church was not heeded; the Indian communities drifted further and further from orthodox Catholicism, and folk and syncretic components acquired a place in the local religious systems. Two examples may be given to illustrate the priest-scholars' tendency to view Indian culture and society through a Christian screen. Ruiz de Alarcon (1953:27-28) gives a good description of the nahual or nahualli, a "transforming witch," or trickster. He describes quite accurately the general attributes of this pre-Hispanic anthropomorphic supernatural; on the basis of his description, it has been possible to reconstruct the evolution of the nahualli since the conquest (Nutini and Roberts, forthcoming). But Ruiz de Alarcon goes on to say that the powers of animal transformation and evildoing are acquired by the nahualli at birth, when its parents make a pacto con el demonio (compact with the [Christian] devil). Ruiz de Alarcon here was simply projecting his own, European conception of a witch. At least in rural Tlaxcala, no association between nahualism and the devil or any other Christian supernatural has survived. 108

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The second example comes from Serna. Following Ruiz de Alarcon to a significant extent, Serna (1953:90-92, 203-206) describes fairly well a number of pre-Hispanic anthropomorphic supernaturals (teyolocuanes, and tlachihuianes, as well as nahualles) that fall under the general categories of sorcerer and witch. Again, seeing these anthropomorphic supernaturals through the screen of Catholic doctrine, he invokes Saint Augustine in order to explain them as the work of the Christian devil. It is as part of this same pattern that Ruiz de Alarcon and Serna, and others of the priest-scholars, failed to appreciate the great cultural achievements of the Indians prior to the arrival of the Spaniards. Even when Serna (1953:117-181) describes the pre-Hispanic calendar—presumably drawing on the work of the Dominican friar Martin de Leon—he refuses to admit that it was an outstanding intellectual feat; on the contrary, he downgrades it in comparison with the European calendar. It is true that, at the time the priest-scholars were writing, Indian culture and society were suffering from the poverty and disorganization that followed the conquest. But they were acquainted, often quite well, with the work of Sahagun, Motolinia, Duran, and other friars, in which Indian culture and society were described as they were prior to that. A century was to elapse before pre-Hispanic culture was again, in the work of Clavijero (1945), properly assessed and its intellectual achievements recognized for what they were. Serna (1953:184) refers to the early friars as primitivos padres (primitive fathers, forerunners) and acknowledges having examined what he thought to be their work. Who these early friars were, he does not say, nor does Ruiz de Alarcon in similar circumstances. It is occasionally possible, however, to determine the provenance of particular passages or entire chapters. For example, discussing the continuation of pre-Hispanic feasts under the guise of Catholic celebrations, Serna (1953:142143) mentions the identification of the goddess Toci (the grandmother of the gods) with Saint Anne in Tlaxcala, of the goddess Tonantzin (Tonan) with the Virgin Mary on the hill of Guadalupe (Tepeyac) in the environs of Mexico City, and of the god Tezcatlipoca (Tlacatelpochtli) with Saint John the Baptist in San Juan Tianguismanalco in the Valley of Puebla (Nutini and Bell 1980:292-293). These identifications were originally reported by Sahagun (1956, vol. 3:353), though whether Serna obtained the information directly from Sahagun or from another secondary source is difficult to say. However, these identifications had been current in the communities a century earlier, when Sahagun had gathered the information (circa 1550), but were so no longer. Serna was not aware of this, since in the following paragraph he surmises that 109

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the Indians are no longer as open in their identifications when they celebrate their feasts. Thus, besides failing to give proper credit to the Indians for their cultural achievements, the priests often failed to discriminate between the contemporary state of affairs and what they extrapolated from their sources. In sum, the intellectual and religious milieu had greatly changed since the first generation of mendicant friars; as the secular priests and clerics rose to domination, Indian folk Catholicism became an essentially independent organic complex. T O D O S SANTOS AND THE CRYSTALLIZATION OF INDIAN FOLK CATHOLICISM

To return to the central concern of this monograph, three conclusions can be drawn from the work of Ruiz de Alarcon and Serna. One of them is directly related to the syncretic development of Todos Santos; the other two are related to the religious matrix in which Todos Santos in particular, and Indian folk Catholicism in general, crystallized as organic entities. (i) The paucity of references to Todos Santos in Ruiz de Alarcon and Serna (and the work of the other four secular priest-scholars in the Paso y Troncoso volume) supports the contention that by about the middle of the seventeeth century, the cult of the dead in Central Mexico had crystallized as a syncretic entity. The brief references to Todos Santos that do appear in Ruiz de Alarcon and Serna fall not only within the range of custom and behavior that was probably characteristic of some non-Indian sectors of colonial society, but also within the range of what the syncretism scheme postulates. Much more significant, however, is the fact that Ruiz de Alarcon and Serna, so concerned with deviations from orthodoxy, have so little to say about Todos Santos and the cult of the dead in general. This is a good indication that Todos Santos had been fully syncretized and had become an organic part of Indian folk Catholicism. Whatever pre-Hispanic components there were in the complex had been so thoroughly blended with the Catholic practices of Todos Santos that they did not elicit overt recognition and reaction on the part of the Indians or from other sectors of colonial society. Serna in particular gives the impression that he would have had the same reaction had he observed the same customs among the urban poor of the time rather than among the Indians of his district. Unlike his diatribes against witches and sorcerers and their presumed lies and unreason, in the case of Todos Santos he merely complains sadly about the Indians' concern with one of the manifestations of an already wellorganized local folk religion at the expense of more orthodox Catholi110

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cism. Serna's complaint has probably been heard thousands of times since then, and it is heard many times today, even in rather acculturated regions. In short, what Ruiz de Alarcon and Serna do not say about Todos Santos is the most important evidence for the understanding of the syncretic complex's last stage of development. (z) The work of Ruiz de Alarcon and Serna and the Paso y Troncoso volume as a whole are only mildly useful for the reconstruction of the last syncretic stage of Indian folk Catholicism but invaluable as a record of the pagan, pre-Hispanic complex that had survived parallel to Indian folk Catholicism. Despite the often unwarranted extrapolations from pre-Hispanic culture, the work of Ruiz de Alarcon and Serna demonstrates that a good deal of the magic and polytheistic complex had survived nearly a century of Catholic indoctrination, disjointed and not as a coherent whole, to be sure, but still part of the local magico-religious situation. This complex included witchcraft, sorcery, and tutelary mountain worship, as well as many beliefs and practices concerning omens, exorcisms, sortileges, divinations, and medicinal practices. In most cases, the complex was not syncretized as part of Indian folk Catholicism; rather, in varying degrees of intensity and extensity, it has survived until the present in several regions of Central Mexico, independent of but parallel to local folk Catholicism. It was partly syncretized by interacting with a number of cognate elements of European and African origin, as a consequence of the secularization of the Indian congregations and the isolation and lack of control of local communities that ensued. This is especially the case with witchcraft, sorcery, and nahualism (see Nutini and Robert, forthcoming). These various elements, beliefs, and practices have diminished and contracted differentially during the intervening two and a half centuries, but in many cases their syncretic provenance can still be detected today. Moreover, at least in Tlaxcala, a distinction between the pagan and the Catholic did develop, though the separation was limited by a common ideology of the supernatural, which was the cornerstone of the folk-pagan Catholicism of rural Tlaxcala until a generation ago. (3) The third point is a corollary of the second, and it has to do with the difference between the degree of syncretism of Indian folk Catholicism and the degree of retention of the parallel pagan complex in Central Mexico. When one looks at the contemporary culture and society of Indians and rural Mestizos of Central Mexico (roughly from Oaxaca to San Luis Potosi and from coast to coast), one sees an enormously varied mosaic of folk, syncretic, and pagan religious and magical elements, the composition of which is not alike in any two regions. Anthropologists have assumed that acculturation is influenced by a set of 111

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variables (usually distance to urban centers, geographical isolation, and recent economic or demographic events) more limited than is actually the case. For example, it was surprising to find that anthropomorphic supernaturalism (witchcraft, sorcery, nahualism, weathermaking) was significantly more complex, diversified, and structured in the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley than in the Sierra de Puebla, even though the former is a significantly more acculturated area than the latter. In retrospect, it appears that the crucial variables were the differences in the cultural situation of the two areas at the time of the conquest and in their rates and patterns of development during the years that followed. Assuming, however, that by the middle of the seventeenth century Central Mexico presented a more or less uniform sociocultural mosaic, an understanding of the ethnology of this area is a necessary prerequisite to understanding how its component regions developed for the next three centuries. It has been shown here that Todos Santos, and Indian folk Catholicism in general, had completed their syncretic transformations by the middle of the seventeenth century and that the cult of the dead had reached the basic form that in rural Tlaxcala could still be observed a generation ago. Obviously, no social institution or complex can remain completely unchanged for three centuries, and Todos Santos undoubtedly did undergo some changes. But these changes were relatively minor and short-lived and did not affect its basic structure and belief system. Nevertheless, on the basis of local archival materials and the published literature since 1900, when Starr produced the first modern ethnographic reference for the region, two important points about these changes can be made. First, the private, household celebration of Todos Santos appears to have been configurated into its present form throughout this long period. This central component of the cult of the dead of Indian communities was to a considerable extent shared with most of the other sectors of colonial and, later on, republican society in much the same form. Despite the relative isolation of most Indian communities in the eighteenth century, they were in one way or another exposed to a certain modicum of influence from the outside world, and this influence gradually increased over time. Another factor is that early in the nineteenth century the number of visiting priests began to grow, and the degree of control over Indian Catholicism grew correspondingly. By the end of about three decades after independence, diocesan control and integration of most Indian communities in Tlaxcala had become more or less what it is today. These two factors led to changes in the household celebration of Todos Santos, either as a result of spontaneous reactions of the peo112

TODOS SANTOS: STRUCTURE AND PROCESS

pie or as the result of actions by resident and visiting priests. It is impossible to detail the specific changes that took place, but they probably concerned such items as the arrangement of family altars, the quality of the offerings, the arrangement of tombs in the cemetery, and perhaps even ceremonies associated with aspects of the two main days of the celebration. These changes occurred almost exclusively after independence and before 1880. The only fairly good description of the celebration of All Saints Day and All Souls Day in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries is found in a small book on the Virgin of Ocotlan by Suarez de Peredo (1823). What he says about it (Suarez de Peredo 1823:41-42) is practically the same as what Serna (1953:68-69) had said some 170 years earlier. Thus, it appears that the general form and content of Todos Santos remained constant until the twentieth century. Second, the public component of Todos Santos experienced even fewer changes than the private component. This is amply corroborated by the almost uninterrupted record of the libros de cofradia of the mayordomias and hermandades concerned with the cult of the dead from the middle of the seventeenth century until the twentieth. The only change was that, shortly after the middle of the nineteenth century, new mayordomias and hermandades having to do directly or indirectly with the cult of the dead were founded, such as the mayordomta de la velacion nocturna. Otherwise, the public cult of the dead, and the mayordomia system in general, have been among the most stable institutions of Tlaxcalan folk Catholicism since the eighteenth century. This was the general state of affairs concerning Todos Santos until the beginning of what will be treated here as the ethnographic present in rural Tlaxcala.

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·4· TRADITIONAL STRUCTURE AND THE RITUAL AND PROPITIATORY SPECIALIZATION OF THE CULT OF THE DEAD

In rural Tlaxcala, in contrast to other areas of Mexico and Guatemala, there are no sharp cultural or ethnic differences between Indians and Mestizos (Nutini and Isaac 1974:375-396). At the community level, distribution, participation, and access to political, social, economic, and religious life are basically egalitarian; the community is an entity with a high degree of integration, without divisions between groups having antagonistic interests. At the regional level, the situation acquires an even greater fluidity and equanimity. In the urban and industrial context, whatever ethnic and cultural differences may be distinguished at the rural community level tend to become blurred, and the rural population is perceived as a diffuse proletarian mass or simply as the city's lower class. In contemporary rural Tlaxcala, one finds individuals, groups of individuals, and entire communities moving along the Indian-Mestizo continuum. In 1965, the more than two hundred communities in the 21 municipios of rural Tlaxcala could be categorized in the following fashion: Indian-traditional, 12 percent; Indiantransitional, 35 percent; transitional-Mestizo, 45 percent; Mestizo-secularized, 8 percent. During the next fifteen years, the rate of change greatly accelerated. As these lines are being written (June 1983), the percentage of Indian-traditional and Indian-transitional communities and individuals has diminished greatly, and these two segments probably now account for less than 20 percent of the population of rural Tlaxcala. When I began to work in rural Tlaxcala a generation ago, in the summer of 1959, they constituted about 65 percent of the population. It was still possible then to obtain a good overall view of what traditional culture and society had been before the organic structure of the local community had been disrupted by external and internal forces. It is only in the homeostatic conception of the functionalist that all elements and segments of society are smoothly integrated. My observations in Tlaxcala demonstrate that, on the contrary, changes in one domain do not necessarily produce changes in other domains, at least not immediately and often not for fairly long periods of time. Political and economic changes in Tlaxcalan communities, most of them arising 114

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out of external forces, have not necessarily produced changes in their social organization or religion. When changes have occurred, they have generally come rather suddenly and after rather long periods of incubation. This situation has been conceptualized (Nutini and Isaac 1974:431-444; Nutini and Bell 1980:367-374) in terms of a progression from modernization to secularization. In about 1880, rural Tlaxcalan culture and society were fully traditional; that is, they were in relative organic equilibrium. They had not changed in any significant aspect since the last decade of the seventeenth century, when local culture and society crystallized into numerous folk communities, which, however, shared a broad common denominator. By extending the ethnographic present to some three generations ago (using informants from 85 to 95 years old in i960), it was possible to reconstruct a general picture of local community life during the two decades before the turn of the century (Nutini and Roberts, forthcoming). In short, Tlaxcalan Indians of the last quarter of the nineteenth century would have felt quite at home in their communities in 1700. This contention is corroborated by the work of Starr (1900), who spent more than two months in Tlaxcala between 1898 and 1900. He leaves no doubt, for example, that at that time rural Tlaxcala as a whole was a cultural mosaic of closed corporate Indian communities, mostly monolingual in Nahuatl. Since Starr's time, perhaps beginning earlier, the communities of rural Tlaxcala have changed at different rates. Since the late 1950s, when in the majority of communities secularization had not yet begun, the pace of change has quickened dramatically, and especially during the past decade, dozens of communities have become essentially secularized. But the major domains of local culture and society did not change at the same rate. The demographic, political, and economic domains constituted an interrelated whole that proved most susceptible to change; it is there that changes generally come first, almost invariably triggered by variables external to the community or region. The social domain (kinship, compadrazgo, stratification) and the religious domain (the cult of the saints, the cult of the dead, the mayordomia system, the ayuntamiento religioso, the magico-symbolic system) were the most resistant to change; changes there were generally the result of demographic, political, or economic forces operating over considerable periods of time and experienced by the people in the communities as internal changes. Thus, in this model of change in folk societies, changes almost invariably are caused by external conditions of an economic and political nature, which ultimately affect the core of local culture and society, the social and religious domains, which are most char115

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acteristic of the community and at the same time most different from the larger society. As a case in point, the Todos Santos complex and the magico-religious system in general did not change perceptibly between the last two decades of the nineteenth century and the middle of the twentieth century. Secularization in this cultural domain did not make itself felt until late in the decade of the 1950s. This and the following chapter describe and analyze the cult of the dead, centered in Todos Santos, as it was practiced in the great majority of rural Tlaxcalan communities until about i960. They are concerned chiefly with three topics: the celebration of All Saints Day and All Souls Day and adjacent days; the different kinds of dead people and dead souls that were honored and propitiated; and the beliefs and attitudes surrounding the occurrence of death and its circumstances. As homogeneous as rural Tlaxcala was in the magico-religious domain a generation ago, there were differences from community to community. The following account presents both what was shared by most communities at that time and the differences among them in belief and practice. T O D O S SANTOS AT THE TURN OF THE CENTURY

The outline of Tlaxcalan ethnography provided by Starr (1900:14-33) contains several good descriptions of magic and religion. Outstanding among them is the description of the celebration of Todos Santos and associated beliefs and practices concerning the dead. Several of these beliefs and practices are so strikingly reminiscent of pre-Hispanic counterparts that it might seem that Starr's main informant, the Indian Quechol, was drawing on published sources rather than reporting what was happening in 1898 or 1899. (Quechol apparently was literate, and it is quite possible that he was acquainted with some of the sources on pre-Hispanic culture available to the educated people of that time.) This is not the case, however, for I have been able to ascertain the survival down to the present day of all the beliefs and practices concerning the dead recorded by Starr.1 As a baseline, and in order to demonstrate the continuity of the cult of the dead for nearly three generations, what Starr had to say about rural Tlaxcala as a whole will be briefly recapitulated here. Concerning the destination of dead souls, Starr (1900:17) says: "It is believed that the soul after death journeys to the hereafter: good souls follow a straight and narrow path, bad ones a wide one. Both ultimately reach a deep and broad river, which can only be passed by the help of a dog (tlachichi), which takes the souls upon his shoulders and bears them over. The souls are obliged to await the pleasure of the dog 116

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and bad souls are refused transportation. It is customary to treat dogs well in this life, in hope that thus one may not meet refusal from this canine carrier. Commonly a coin is placed in the mouth or hand of the dead, to be given to the dog." Tlaxcalans also had the following beliefs concerning the dead: Whirlwinds {remolinos in Spanish, ecamalacatl in Nahuatl) were either "spindles set a-whirling by dead souls" or "the souls of the dead themselves" (Starr 1900:18). The souls of dead children began to arrive at the households of their erstwhile kin at 3 p.m. on October 31 and kept coming for an entire day; the souls of adults began to arrive at 3 p.m. on November 1 and also continued to come for a full day; all souls departed at 3 p.m. on November 2; the prolonged vigil or watch to celebrate the visits was called techalistl (Starr 1900:27). Dead souls "can hear but cannot see and therefore persons are careful of their remarks during the ghostly visits" (Starr 1900:28). The barking of dogs at night was associated with the passing of dead souls (Starr 1900:28)."When food or drink in a room appears to be diminished the family are pleased as they believe souls have been and taken" (Starr 1900:28). "The souls of women who die in childbirth go to a river where they abide; passers in the night may see them working at clothes washing; they are beckoned to and invited down to the river side—but for them to go is death" (Starr 1900:28). Infants who die while they are still nursing went to chichihuaquaco, a place where trees have breasts from which infants suck milk for sustenance (Starr 1900:29). I have found all of these beliefs to be present in rural Tlaxcala as late as 1976, sometimes described in words almost identical to those used by Starr. In the community of San Isidro Buen Suceso, every one of them was found. In the majority of communities, however, most of them were present but one, two, or three were no longer part of the local complex. The three most common beliefs (which probably by 1950 were already on their way to disappearance) were the pilgrimage of dead souls and the tlachichi dog, the destination of women who die in childbirth, and the place of the sucking tree for the souls of dead infants. Even the objective "lesson" in the form of a legend for the conduct of the rites and ceremonies of Todos Santos (Starr 1900:28) has survived until the present; I have recorded this legend, in identical or variant forms, at least a dozen times. Similarly, the activities and ceremonies of Todos Santos described by Starr are still being discharged in the same form and context in many rural Tlaxcalan communities. The decoration of the family altar, the kinds and quality of the ofrenda (offering), and other appurtenances of All Saints Day and All Souls Day are the same today as they were when 117

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Starr visited Tlaxcala. That part of his description will therefore be dispensed with, as it will be fully elaborated below. It may be added, however, that whatever changes Todos Santos underwent from the turn of the century to the late 1950s were mainly in the belief system and of a qualitative kind; structural changes have been minimal and quantitative. Furthermore, they have been entirely modernizing changes, which are difficult to perceive and by themselves do not alter the basic structure of a system or domain. Independently of Starr, I have been able to reconstruct the Todos Santos complex from even before the turn of the century. On the basis of information from at least ten informants who were 85 to 95 years old between i960 and 1965, from the communities of San Bernardino Contla, San Felipe Cuauhtenco, San Miguel Xaltipac, Santa Maria Belen Azitzimititian, San Pedro Xochiteotla, San Rafael Tepatlachco, and Guadalupe Ixcotla, I have not only confirmed what was told to Starr by his chief informant (Quechol was not more than twelve or fifteen years older than my oldest informants), but I have composed a rather comprehensive picture of Todos Santos and the cult of the dead. No criticism of Starr's work is implied, for his was a general survey of the Indians of south-central Mexico, and for the time it was an excellent piece of ethnography. ACTIVITIES PRELIMINARY TO T O D O S SANTOS

The socioeconomic milieu in which the Todos Santos complex was discharged in the middle of the twentieth century was not that of a typical peasant society, at least of the kind that were and still are found in Mesoamerica. Labor migration had been a significant factor at the community and regional levels since before 1890, and by 1940, the economy of rural Tlaxcala was more dependent on income from labor migration than on the combined income from subsistence agriculture and other economic activities (local commerce and a number of cottage industries). By the mid-1950s, labor migration accounted for nearly 65 percent of the regional economy, and only a few completely agricultural communities were left. It is in the context of an essentially rural proletarian society, though one still strongly influenced by its folk-Indian background, that Todos Santos and the cult of the dead are to be described and analyzed. In strictly religious terms and in the overall organization of public participation, Todos Santos ranks just below the celebrations of Holy Week, Christmas, and the feast of the patron saint of the community, the other three most important occasions in the annual cycle. Affec118

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tively, however, and in terms of individual and household participation and involvement, Todos Santos is the equal of Holy Week, and they are the two peaks of ritual and ceremonial elaboration. In addition to the great concern with bloodshed and death in the religious traditions out of which the folk-syncretic religion of rural Tlaxcala was built, there are two other reasons for the socioreligious saliency that Todos Santos acquired, especially during the past century or so. The first is that Todos Santos comes right after most of the crops have been harvested. This means that it is the most affluent time of the year, when the people feel that they can spend something extra in order to enhance the quality of the celebration. Even though in many communities the subsistence income from agriculture (mostly meager crops of corn and beans and a number of fruit trees) constitutes less than 25 percent of the total economy, the folk-peasant ideology is still strong and the people regard the months of November and December as a time of well-being, rejoicing, and thanksgiving. Moreover, Todos Santos initiates the ritual-ceremonial cycle that ends just after Holy Week. It is during this five-and-ahalf-month period that the most important annual celebrations take place (with the exception of the feast of the patron saint of the community, which may or may not fall within this period). The people believe that the months of November and December are of good omen, a time of renewal, and that they ought not skimp (escatimar) on anything in order to begin the annual cycle under the most propitious conditions. Thus, from the viewpoint of the individual and the household, Todos Santos is a time of maximum economic expenditure. The second reason for the increased importance of Todos Santos has to do with the movement of people entailed by labor migration. Most of this movement has consisted of periodic migrations to the centers of work in the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley and the Valley of Mexico, although, as far back as the colonial era, there has always been some permanent migration to urban centers in Central Mexico. For those involved in either of these kinds of migration, Todos Santos has been regarded as a time of homecoming, of a reaffirmation of one's origin. The people believe that if the dead are not properly remembered, even at the expense of one's job and economic security, things will not go as smoothly as if one has the protection of those who have left this world of existence. This belief, and the activity that goes with it, has to some degree survived even the rather serious secularizing trends that Todos Santos has been experiencing during the past generation. Indeed, the discharge of the beliefs and attitudes centered in Todos Santos may be an index of the completion of secularization. When Tlaxcalans no longer feel the need to return to their ancestral communities to become 119

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one with their dead for Todos Santos, it will mean that they have fully become part of the national culture; they have cut the last tie to their village community. Conversely, when the local community begins to cut corners in the discharge of the functions and activities of Todos Santos, it is also an indicator of secularization. When this process continues for a generation or more, it is bound to affect the belief system, and the community will become a part of the national culture, undistinguishable from the culture and society of regional cities. This has already happened to a number of communities during the past quarter century, and that is why the description and analysis of Todos Santos as a traditional complex must be dated no later than the middle 1950s. As early as the first week in October, the people begin to prepare for the celebration of Todos Santos: to apportion the necessary cash and goods for the decoration of family altars and tombs in the cemetery and to make plans for the ceremonial meals and banquets that will be offered to kinsmen, compadres, and friends and visitors from the community, and to make adequate arrangements to be reasonably free from jobs and other obligations for the several days of the celebration. The last point is of special importance for labor migrants, who in the typical community may account for more than half of all nuclear family heads. In their ritual and ceremonial life, labor migrants are concerned about being released from their jobs for two purposes: in order to discharge their duties and obligations during Todos Santos and, when they hold key positions in the mayordomia system or ayuntamiento religioso, in order to preside over the feast or ceremony connected with their office. In order to secure free time for these two occasions, labor migrants offer to work on Christmas, New Year, and other national holidays, or to make up lost time in some other way. Employers are usually accommodating, as a way of earning the loyalty of their workers. The textile factories of the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley not infrequently stop production entirely for the week of Todos Santos in order to release their workers. Labor migrants generally take seven days off for Todos Santos from October 2.8 to November 3 (November 2 is a paid holiday). Even seasonal migrants to Veracruz, the border states, other parts of Mexico, and the United States make efforts to be back in their communities for Todos Santos. If they cannot return, they send money to help pay for the expenses of the celebration. Permanent migrants to Mexico City and the cities in the states of Puebla and Tlaxcala generally return on October 31 and leave on November 3. They stay with kinsmen, compadres, or neighbors and friends. The last week in October is one of 120

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intense activity, not unlike the hustle and bustle of urbanites for Christmas. One of the most important parts of the celebration of Todos Santos is the decoration of household altars and of the graves in the cemetery. The people take great pride in making these decorations; there is an air of "keeping up with the Joneses," and much time and effort are spent on it. Two flowers are prominent in the decorations: zempoalxochitl, a marigold (Tagetes spp.; the Nahuatl word means "flower of the dead"), and moco de pavo, or turkey's crest, an amaranth {Amaranthus hypochondriacus). Most households grow their own zempoalxochitl on a plot usually located next to the house. The seeds are planted in the middle of August and the flowers are in full bloom by the end of October. Those who do not plant zempoalxochitl can buy it in the local markets; it is brought to Tlaxcala from several places in Central Mexico where it is grown commercially. Moco de pavo, on the other hand, has not been locally cultivated since the late 1930s. The great majority of households buy it in the markets of Tlaxcala City, Santa Ana Chiautempan, and especially San Martin Texmelucan, in the state of Puebla, in whose environs it is grown commercially. This is one example of the modernizing changes that have affected the Todos Santos complex as well as other elements of rural Tlaxcalan folk religion. Not later than October 2.5, the household begins to prepare the offerings and decorations for the dead and the ceremonial food that will be consumed throughout the days of the celebration. It is the household, not the family, that is the basic unit in the celebration of Todos Santos (except in the exchange of presents of food and flowers, which is generally done by married couples). Almost invariably, the most elaborate altars and richest activities take place in extended-family households, where component nuclear families pool their resources for the celebration. Many items for the preparation of offerings, ceremonial food, and decorations have to be bought in large quantities. Furthermore, since most of them cannot be purchased locally, the heads of households and their spouses trek to Puebla, Cholula, and Texmelucan, the main market centers of the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley and the more adventurous ones embark on two- or three-day buying trips to Mexico City, nearly a hundred miles away. Labor migrants return to their communities loaded with victuals and many other items that will be used in the celebration. Rural Tlaxcalans have always bought in the market many of the raw materials for the making of offerings and of decorations for the dead, but the finished products were universally homemade until the midthirties. Since then, increasing numbers of households have begun to 121

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buy finished offerings and decorations in the cities and a number of villages that specialize in their manufacture. Among the most common items purchased in this fashion are specially baked bread, from Cholula and San Juan Totolac; candied fruit and skulls made of sugar, from Puebla; human figurines made of pumpkin seeds, from Atlixco; pear, apple, quince, and haw (tejocote, Crataegus mexicanus) preserves, from Huejotzingo; and, papier-mache, from Amozoc (see map z). All these places are within thirty-five miles of most rural Tlaxcalan communities, and usually a special day is set aside by the women of the household on which to make their buying trips. By the 2,8th, at the latest, almost everything that will be used for the Todos Santos celebration—raw materials, finished products, and decorations—has been purchased and is ready to be used. The only item that is purchased at the last moment, on the 31st or even the 1st, are the zempoalxochitl flowers, by those households that have not grown their own. This flower does not last more than four days, and so the household altar and tombs in the cemetery are not decorated with zempoalxochitl before the 31st and 1st respectively, for the people want this most important decoration to be resplendent for the high points of the celebration. The most important and prominent offering to the dead is pan de muertos (bread of the dead, also known as hojaldras in urban areas). The Nahuatl name for bread of the dead, tamamixtli, is no longer used, except in four or five of the most conservative communities. Pan de muertos is a semisweet bread made of wheat flour, eggs, sugar, lard, yeast, and a number of spices.1 It is baked in a number of shapes and sizes: round, in sizes of about five, seven, and ten inches; and elliptical, in sizes of eight by five inches and twelve by seven inches. The two "classical" loaves are the five- and seven-inch round ones. The loaves are one and a half to three inches high, and they are decorated with dough protuberances in the form of crossed bones, which obviously symbolize the dead being honored. They are almost always made at home rather than bought. As in several domains of rural Tlaxcalan culture, there is a rather strict division of labor in the preparation of the ceremonial food and offerings. Men are solely responsible for the pan de muertos, from the mixing of the ingredients to the baking and the removal of the bread from the oven. Women are forbidden to handle the bread until it is ready to be placed on the altar or apportioned to be given out as gifts to kinsmen, compadres, and friends, its two most important ceremonial uses. Women, on the other hand, have the exclusive task of making all the other offerings; although men are not forbidden to handle these 122

Map z. Highway and Road Network

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items, they customarily respect this division of labor. The arrangement and decoration of the household altar and of the graves in the cemetery are cooperative tasks, in which everyone in the household participates on the basis of carefully assigned duties.3 Households generally try to have their pan de muertos baked and ready by the night of the 30th. Requirements for other offerings—candies, fruits, and other items of food and drink—are more variable among communities. In any case, the arrangement and decoration of the household altar must be completed by noon on the 31st, for the people believe that shortly after that the dead begin to arrive. SPECIALIZATION IN THE CULT OF THE DEAD BY DAY

During Todos Santos, different categories of the dead are remembered and honored on each of five consecutive days. October 28 is dedicated to those who die in accidents; October 29, to those who die violently; October 30, to those who die as infants; October 31, to dead children; and November 1, to dead adults. On November 2, the climax of Todos Santos, all the dead are remembered and honored. Each of these days entails particular functions and activities in the household, the cemetery, and other places. October 28: Those Who Die in Accidents The most common occasions of accidental deaths are automobile, truck, and bus accidents; a fall down a steep ravine (barranca), generally at night; being struck by a bolt of lightning (rayo); and drowning. Since rural Tlaxcalans in general, and labor migrants in particular, move about considerably, and since the Central Mexican highlands have had extensive motorized transportation since the early 1940s, the first of these categories is by far the most common. Almost all deaths in accidents involving motorized vehicles take place on the many paved roads that connect the cities of Central Mexico. When someone dies that way, the nearest kinsmen arrange for a wooden or metal cross to be erected on the following October 28 at the spot where the accident took place. The kinsmen choose compadres de parada de cruz, a married couple of ritual kinship who act as sponsors for the erection of the cross. The compadres are responsible for buying the cross, erecting it, and decorating it with zempoalxochitl flowers. Kinsmen and compadres journey to the spot with the cross and flowers, and the compadre leads the company in a rosary. For four consecutive years thereafter, the cross is decorated with 124

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zempoalxochitl flowers, but the compadres are not required to be present. Instead, one person is commissioned for this function, in order to avoid the expenses of a number of people journeying to the spot. On the fourth anniversary of the ceremony, however, the compadres, and the kinsmen who asked them to erect the cross, return to the scene of the accident, remove the cross, and bring it back to the community. The cross is buried at the foot of the grave, if the body of the deceased was returned to the community, or near where his kinsmen are buried, if the body was not returned. This terminates the ceremonial cycle for those who die in highway accidents, after which they are ritually forgotten. Theoretically, these ceremonies are supposed to be carried out no matter where the accident occurred. In practice, if it was more than two hundred miles away, people find some other way of honoring this category of the dead, as they do not want to incur the costs of long-distance travel. An extra and more splendid offering on the household altar, or a more profusely decorated tomb in the cemetery, are rationalized as symbolic equivalents of visiting the scene of the accidental death. It should be mentioned that Mexico's Department of Transportation and Public Works disapproves of the erection of crosses by the side of major highways, where most of the accidents take place, but the authorities have been unable to stop the practice. The other accidental deaths generally take place in or near the community. There are not many fatal accidents in rural Tlaxcalan communities; most of them are the result of a fall from some high place (a house or other buildings or a tree) or a desbarrancamiento—a fall into a deep ravine or a fall while climbing a steep hill. In these cases, the kinsmen of the deceased visit the place of the accident on the following October 28, erect a cross there and decorate it with zempoalxochitl flowers, and say a rosary for his eternal rest. No ritual kinship sponsors are required in this instance, but the same four-year period of remembrance is observed. Indeed, in order to avoid repetition, it may be said here that, with exceptions to be mentioned below, all the different kinds of dead are remembered for four consecutive years after the Todos Santos following the occasion of their death. The rites of remembrance for people who die on the highway are more elaborate than those for people who die in any other way. All rural Tlaxcalans—infants, children, and adults—must be buried with the benefit of ritual sponsors (padrinos de parada de cruz de entierro), whose main responsibility is to erect a cross on the tomb of the deceased eight days after burial. But in the case of individuals who die on the highway, special parada de cruz sponsors are required, as is an extra cross on the spot of the accident. There appear to be two reasons for 125

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these differences, one economic and the other symbolic. With respect to the former, the sacralization of this particular kind of death, by the establishment of a compadrazgo relationship, is a recognition on the part of rural Tlaxcalans that labor migration is of paramount importance to their economic life. The history of compadrazgo since its inception more than four centuries ago demonstrates that it is the main method of sacralizing social, economic, and religious relationships that are of special importance in the life of rural Tlaxcalans (Nutini and Bell 1980:332-367). With respect to the latter, all occasions for which rural Tlaxcalans deem it important to establish compadrazgo relationships entail, in one degree or another, elements of risk, danger, uncertainty, or fear. In the present case, the establishment of a compadrazgo relationship between the kinsmen of the deceased and a set of sponsors, and the ceremony of erecting and decorating the cross on the spot of where the death occurred, have the symbolic function of warding off the dangers involved in venturing into the outside world, out of the relative safety of the community. Rural Tlaxcalans overtly express the conviction that, by making use of ritual kinship sponsorship to enhance the remembrance of those who have died on the highway, they gain a measure of control over the unfavorable or hostile conditions of the outside world, especially on behalf of labor migrants. (For an analysis of this aspect of ritual kinship, see Nutini 1984.) The ceremonies for those who die as a result of drowning or from being struck by a bolt of lightning are somewhat different. Occasionally, children fall into wells and drown, or people drown in the river and two lagoons located in rural Tlaxcala; during the summer, especially in communities on the middle slopes of La Malintzi, people do die once in a while as the result of lightning. Immediately following this kind of death, the spot and environs where it took place must be ritually cleansed by a tezitlazc. Most rural Tlaxcalans still believe that the tutelary owners of La Malintzi volcano and El Cuatlapanga hill are the masters of the natural elements: water, rain, hail, thunder, and lightning. The tezitlazcs are the intermediaries between the people and these anthropomorphic supernaturals, and through these practitioners individuals and the community supplicate La Malintzi and El Cuatlapanga for the beneficial use of their powers. As a corollary, the people believe that all deaths caused by the natural elements are the result of actions by La Malintzi or El Cuatlapanga, generally as punishment meted out to individuals and families for not having complied with the ritual and ceremonial obligations entailed by folk Catholicism and its pagan components. Thus, when someone dies as a result of drowning or lightning, the deceased's immediate kinsmen ask themselves what have they done 126

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to deserve it, and they call upon a tezitlazc to intercede on their behalf with La Malintzi and El Cuatlapanga. The actions of the tezitlazc on the spot of the accident may be regarded as a rite of atonement and protection, in which he asks La Malintzi and El Cuatlapanga to forgive the kinsmen of the deceased for whatever they have done wrong or have left undone and to spare them any future mishaps. Facing first La Malintzi and then El Cuatlapagna, the tezitlazc recites a number of incantations in both Nahuatl and Spanish, and, invoking the names of San Lorenzo and San Miguel Arcangel, he forms a cross made of the charcoal of capulin (Prurtus capuli), ocote (Pinus teocote), and sabino (Juniperus sabina) at the point where the accident took place. The tezitlazc then leads a rosary in memory of the deceased, and this terminates the ceremony. The charcoal cross must not be touched thereafter; it withers in a few days. The same ceremony is repeated by the tezitlazc on the 28th of October following the accidental death, except that this time he does not form the charcoal cross. Rather, the kinsmen of the deceased make a cross with zempoalxochitl flowers on the same spot, and at the foot of the cross they place an offering on an earthenware dish, consisting of alegria candy and pumpkin-seed figurines representing turkeys, pigs, and other animals. Again, the cross and offering must not be touched afterward, but in a few days they disappear as a result of the weather and of being eaten by animals. October 29: Those Who Die Violently Rural Tlaxcalans are not particularly violent, nor are they noticeably aggressive. On the contrary, they generally try to settle their disputes and disagreements as peacefully as possible. Violence, as a general rule, either is an act of last resort or is inflicted under the influence of alcohol or under extreme agitation and distress. But people occasionally do die as a consequence of violent acts: shooting, knifing, and beating. Rural Tlaxcalans regard such deaths as "unnatural." Death is believed to be essentially beyond human control; individuals die as the result of inscrutable decisions of the supernaturals—the Christian God and saints, La Malintzi and El Cuatlapanga, and a number of other anthropomorphic supernaturals. Thus, for reasons that must be humbly accepted, God may either terminate a person's life naturally or punish him with death for some transgression, or individuals die as the result of a tetlachihuic's actions, or La Malintzi or El Cuatlapanga strike people down. Thus, those who die violently somehow contravene the natural order of existence, for the human will has had a part in the happening. Or, as one informant puts it, "no fueron llamados y su hora de 127

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morir la cambio la mano del hombre" (they were not called, and their hour of dying was changed by the hand of man). Since human beings have little or no control over the termination of their existence, those who pull the trigger or wield the knife or club are not blamed, nor do the kinsmen of the deceased usually try to exact vengeance on the killer or those close to him. (In a generation of fieldwork in Tlaxcala, I have never heard of blood feuding. Until the early 1960s, the great majority of murders and other kinds of violent death were handled by local adjudication, without being referred to the legal authorities of the state of Tlaxcala. The usual outcome was the payment of an agreed sum of money to the immediate kinsmen of the victim by the immediate kinsmen of the murderer, often accompanied by rites of atonement and forgiveness intended to erase any "bad blood" among the kinship groups involved.) Rather, people believe that the killer was guided or compelled by an evil supernatural (the Christian devil, a vengeful tetlachihuic, a matlalcihua, or other malevolent being) to commit the deed, thus somewhat releasing him from responsibility for the act. On the other hand, neither is the victim completely blameless or innocent in his fate, but rather he is regarded as contributing to his own untimely demise. Again, under the influence of some evil supernatural, the people believe, he did something to provoke the incident leading to his death. In acts of violence leading to death, there are no fully innocent or fully guilty parties. In this fundamentally deterministic conception of existence and its termination, there is nevertheless room for free will, for the people believe that the murderer could have resisted the compulsion to kill that was instilled by evil supernaturals, and that the murdered person could have resisted supernatural urgings to provoke his murderer. A violent death, then, is not only a contravention of the natural order, but it is also an unwholesome and unclean act. Its participant actors must therefore be ritually cleansed. Immediately after a killing, the killer must be ministered to by a tezitlazc, who is not only a weatherman and prayer leader but also a specialist in ritual cleansing. If the killer is drunk, his kinsmen wait until he sobers up before calling the tezitlazc. The cleansing rite performed by the tezitlazc consists of lightly bruising the killer with a cleansing bunch three times from head to foot and back again in absolute silence, while the man lies on a bed or petate (straw mat) on the floor. The cleansing bunch consists of red flowers (generally geraniums or carnations) and branches otpirul (a tree belonging to the acacia family) and capulin. The tezitlazc places the cleansing bunch for five minutes on the heart and head of the killer, and then proceeds to commend the killer to God, the saints, and all the blessed souls in Span128

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ish and to La Malintzi in Nahuatl. He asks these supernaturals to forgive the sinner for what he has done and assures them that such acts of violence will never happen again, emphasizing above all that it was not in the killer's heart to do what he did but that he was irresistibly compelled by some malevolent spirit. When the rite is over, the tezitlazc takes the cleansing bunch to a secret place on the higher slopes of La Malintzi volcano, where it will wither away untouched by human hands. It is obvious that to rural Tlaxcalans the cleansing (limpia) is a rite of sympathetic magic, in which the evil and uncleanness in the killer is absorbed by the cleansing bunch through the powers of the good supernaturals invoked by the tezitlazc.4 Within a week, the killer must undertake a pilgrimage to a sanctuary where one of the manifestations of Christ is venerated: El Senor de Jalancingo, El Senor de Tepalcingo, or El Senor de las Maravillas. This terminates the cleansing cycle, and the killer is again symbolically a member in good standing of the local group. From the viewpoint of social and religious interaction, it may take him years to become fully reintegrated in the community, but this dimension does not concern us here. Until the mid-193os, the tezitlazc also performed a limpia on the victim, with the cadaver lying on a table surrounded by candles, just before it was put in the coffin and taken to the cemetery. This limpia was a replica of the one performed on the killer, except that the supplications of the tezitlazc were now directed to the supernatural for the eternal rest of the deceased's soul. Nowadays, however, this practice has fallen into disuse in all but two or three of the most conservative communities. After the deceased has been buried, within no more than twenty-four hours, his immediate kinsmen hire another tezitlazc (never the same one who officiated at the limpia of the killer) to conduct cleansing rites at the place where the killing occurred. If the killing occurred inside a house, the tezitlazc ritually cleanses the entire house. With a cleansing bunch consisting of the same elements described above but also including some white flowers (usually gladioli), he lightly brushes the floor, walls, and ceiling of every room of the house. Then, in front of the household altar, he makes a supplication on behalf of the deceased, emphasizing that he should not be held unduly responsible for what happened. The entire proceeding is conducted in Spanish, and no mention is made of pagan supernaturals. As in the case of the cleansing rites for the killer, the tezitlazc takes the bunch to La Malintzi immediately afterward. Finally, the kinsmen of the deceased place a large bunch of flowers (zempoalxochitl, if they are in season) and a small incense holder {copalcaxitl) with burning pine resin {copal) in front of the 129

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household altar. On the following 29th of October, the kinsmen of the deceased return to the house where the killing took place, bearing zempoalxochitl flowers from which they make a cross that is placed at the side of the household altar, generally against the wall so as not to interfere with the household's own preparations for Todos Santos. The people of the household must respect the integrity of the cross until their own altar decorations and offerings are disassembled and disposed of. The kinsmen of the deceased are joined by household members in three rosaries on behalf of his eternal rest. It goes without saying that the owners of the house—whoever they are and however they are related or unrelated to the killer and the deceased—must under any circumstances allow these rites to take place. If the killing occurred in the courtyard of a house, in the street, or in the open fields, the proceedings are roughly the same, except that the tezitlazc simply brushes with the cleansing bunch the spot where the person was killed, and then, walking in a circle some ten yards from the spot, he symbolically brandishes the cleansing bunch; the bunch of flowers is placed on the spot of the killing and the copalcaxitl next to it. For the visit on the 19th of October, the zempoalxochitl cross is not necessarily placed on the spot of the killing but may be placed nearby, so that it will not inadvertantly be disturbed or destroyed by passersby. Even if the zempoalxochitl cross or the copalcaxitl is in the middle of the street, and a passerby in any way disturbs it, even unwittingly, it is considered a very bad omen and the person may expect to be haunted by the soul of the deceased. A killing in which the perpetrator is unknown is considered a bad omen for the kinsmen of the deceased in particular, and for the neighborhood or community in general. Rural Tlaxcalans have a deepseated belief in quickly restoring the symbolic and supernatural balance when something has disturbed what they regard as the natural course of events. This concern is extended to a number of rites of passage and rites for situations of imminent danger, in which ritual kinship sponsorship plays an important role and acquires diversified proportions (see Nutini and Bell 1980:62-194). In the present case, when a killer cannot be found on whom to perform the balance-restoring rites, the saliency and complexity of the rites performed on the deceased are augmented. The proceedings become a community concern, sometimes involving many compadres, friends, and neighbors of the deceased's kinsmen. The rites and general proceedings are the same as described above, but they are further elaborated. As in the case where the killer is known, only one cross is made of zempoalxochitl flowers and only one copalcaxitl is placed at its foot on the spot where the person was killed, 130

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but many flowers are brought and placed around the cross, and many rosaries are said by kinsmen, compadres, friends, and neighbors. After the offering on the spot of the killing on the 29th of October, the most imtimate compadres of the deceased and/or his immediate kinsmen give a ceremonial meal to which all the attending company are invited. Following this outburst of individual and collective ritual activity, things go back to normal in the household and neighborhood of the deceased, as the people feel that things are once again in place. The great concern of rural Tlaxcalans with the restoration of the symbolic and supernatural balance is most dramatically exemplified in the case of suicide. Until the late 1960s, suicide was extremely rare, and from 1959 to 1970 I recorded only two cases: a very discontented twenty-seven-year-old daughter-in-law residing patrilocally (1961) and a young man in his mid-twenties of rather low intelligence (1967).5 Especially in the case of the daughter-in-law, the reaction of the community was one of great unhappiness, apprehension, and a sense of danger. The members of the local ayuntamiento religioso were unanimously opposed to burying the women in the cemetery. After much deliberation, however, the wish of the deceased's kinsmen, supported by the majority of the community (a tightly knit settlement of slightly less than 1,000 people), prevailed and the women was buried in the cemetery. As in the case of all suicides, no rites of any kind were performed on her behalf. (Until about the late 1920s, those who committed suicide were never buried in the cemetery. Rather, the most intimate ritual kinsmen took the body to a secluded place on the slopes of La Malintzi and buried it there. This custom has been abandoned; even in the late 1950s, it was already on its way to extinction.) In the view of rural Tlaxcalans, taking one's own life violates one of the most important rules of the natural order. Unlike a person who provokes or commits a murder, a person who commits suicide must be held solely responsible for the act and is rendered totally beyond redemption. The action of the suicide is not something exclusively individual, but it affects the community as a whole by diminishing the accumulated pool of goodwill with the supernatural, and some special action must be taken to redress such a serious contretemps. Given this set of imperatives, the people turn to the performance of a rather elaborate complex of individual and collective rites and ceremonies: rosaries in front of household altars; processions through the streets of the community bearing the most venerated local images; ceremonial meals in the households of the suicide's kinsmen and most intimate compadres; and, not least, commissions to the tezitlazcs to commend the entire community to the supernaturals, Catholic and pagan. The main 131

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theme of all this ritual and ceremonial activity may be construed as the community's atonement and asking for forgiveness from the supernatural for the serious transgression of one of its members. This is well expressed by an informant when he says, "Lo que hacemos es un desagravio a los poderes que nos gobiernan y nos cuidan" (what we do is an act of apology to the powers that govern us and watch over us). The rites and ceremonies may last for a week, and only then will the people feel that they are again in good standing with the supernatural. Needless to say, all concerned try to forget suicides as quickly as possible, and they are never honored at the household altar or in the cemetery. There is more to the ceremonies attending suicide than the restoration of the symbolic and supernatural balance. They point up a belief system that forbids the willful termination of one's own life. At first sight, this looks like nothing more than a traditional Christian injunction: you must not take your own life; this is the privilege of God, and you must accept his will without protesting. But this theological imperative does not explain the rather dramatic outburst of ritual and ceremonial activity that follows a suicide, especially in view of the fact that in practice, if not in theology, the Christian attitude toward suicide has noticeably softened in the twentieth century. The explanation, rather, must be sought in pre-Hispanic beliefs concerning the dead and their final destination, some of which have survived until the present. Although there appear to be no specific references in the published sources to suicide and the fate of those who take their own life, it is evident that they do not have a place to go after death. Unless there was a god of suicide, and there are no indications that there was one, taking one's life infringes upon the right and privilege of the gods to recruit souls for their celestial or infernal domains. Moreover, if one considers the essentially pragmatic relationship between pre-Hispanic man and his polytheistic pantheon, a conception that has also survived with some force in rural Tlaxcala, the apprehension of the people and their desire to remove quickly whatever disturbs the covenant between man and the supernatural become fully intelligible. This is a good example of a pre-Hispanic religious belief that was reinforced by a somewhat similar Catholic belief and came to produce ritual and ceremonial results that are not present in urban, orthodox Catholicism and that probably were never present even in early variants of European folk Catholicism. October 30: Those Who Die as Infants Strictly speaking, on October 30 the people remember and make offerings to what they call los ninos limbos (infants in limbo), that is, 132

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those infants who die before being baptized. In practice, however, this category is extended to include all infants, even those who have been baptized. The term "infant" is generally employed by rural Tlaxcalans to designate children who have not yet begun to speak intelligibly. As a rule, this means children up to the age of three or three and a half. Given the extremely high rate of infant mortality in rural Tlaxcala until the early 1960s, an inordinate number of deaths fall into this category. In some communities, as many as 50 percent of all children die before the age of five, and the most critical period falls between birth and the age of two and a half. The sheer weight of numbers makes this category of the dead extremely important, for there is no other stage in the life cycle of rural Tlaxcalans that exhibits such a high concentration of mortality. The importance of the cult of dead infants is enhanced by the position that infants (and children generally) have as especially effective mediators between man and the supernatural. Indeed, perhaps more than adults, infants and children are honored and worshipped during Todos Santos, and on a number of other occasions, for their role as intermediaries in the supplications that rural Tlaxcalans are constantly addressing to both Catholic and pagan supernaturals. There are two different kinds of dead infants in this category: those who die of natural causes, and those who die as the result of being sucked by the tlahuelpuchi (bloodsucking witch). Rural Tlaxcalans are very clear about these two kinds of infant death, and the difference centers on age and the particular circumstances under which death takes place. These matters will be discussed in detail elsewhere (Nutini and Roberts, forthcoming) and will be referred to only briefly here. Pulmonary and bronchial disorders account for most of the infant mortality in rural Tlaxcala. When an infant dies of these or other diseases recognized by modern medicine, there is no doubt in the minds of the people that the death was the result of natural causes. Perhaps more than half of sick infants are eventually diagnosed and treated by physicians, but initially they are usually cared for by local practitioners. 6 The great majority of infants who die after the age of one year are regarded as having died of natural causes. On the other hand, most infants who die between the ages of two months and a year are believed to have been sucked by the tlahuelpuchi. The etiology, physical manifestation, and social underpinnings of bloodsucking witchcraft in rural Tlaxcala is subtle and complex (for details, see Nutini and Roberts, forthcoming). At the heart of the problem is what may be called the "transposition of causation," that is, the juxtaposition of physical manifestations and sociopsychological conditions which, in a given domain, makes it highly plausible to the people that supernatural actions produce natural outcomes. In brief, rural Tlaxcalans believe that there 133

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exist such anthropomorphic supernaturals as tlahuelpuchis; that they are bloodsucking witches with the power to transform themselves into animals; that they have an irresistible compulsion to suck the blood of infants between the ages of two months and a year; and that all infants who die under certain well-defined conditions or exhibit characteristic physical marks on their bodies—bruises and acchymoses on the back, ears, or neck, and purple or reddish spots on the chest and sometimes on the face—have been sucked by witches. If an infant dies under the specified conditions of time, place, and physical manifestations, the overwhelming majority of rural Tlaxcalans will attribute the death to the action of the tlahuelpuchi. The concordance between the beliefs specified by the tlahuelpuchi complex and its actual, physical manifestation is so high as to make the complex self-fulfilling. Some infants do die before reaching the age of two months, or they die between the ages of two months and a year but not under the conditions and physical manifestations specified by the tlahuelpuchi complex, and in these cases the people conclude that the infants died of natural causes.7 The rural Tlaxcalan's attitude toward death is fatalistic, measured, and controlled, and it is not usually expressed externally in manifestations of grief and sorrow. When an adult dies, his immediate kinsmen and other people close to him may experience a number of deep emotions, but all concerned accept his death without protest, totally resigned, and as part of a plan that it would be presumptuous to try to understand. The ideological imperatives underlying death are such that, unlike modern Western man, rural Tlaxcalans do not question, doubt, or even think about rebelling against the will of God and the other supernatural forces that govern their existence. Even the most acculturated rural Tlaxcalan would not think and behave with the despair and near rage that would be expected in, say, an American upon a death regarded as "untimely" or "unjust." Conversely, an American might welcome, even wish for, the death of an individual who is physically suffering, is making others suffer physically or psychologically, or is being a "nuisance" socially or religiously. But for the same reasons that "untimely" death is fatalistically accepted by rural Tlaxcalans, so also euthanasia would be abhorrent to them. The sick and afflicted, young and old, receive all the love and care that can be provided until they die. The loathsome and dreaded nature of the tlahuelpuchi is evidently a means of explaining the unexpected taking of a human life. When an infant dies of natural causes, the same fatalistic and controlled ideological framework is at work, but the rites of death are different in a way that reveals the deep-seated belief that this is a cruel but transitory world, and that the dead have every reason to expect an 134

THE CULT OF THE DEAD: STRUCTURE AND RITUAL

other-worldly recompense if they have kept their part of the bargain in the human-supernatural covenant. The whole structure of the deathwake-burial complex for these infants can be described as almost a happy occasion. The infant's parents may feel a great deal of pain and grief, but the people in general exhibit a kind of vicarious relief that the infant, unlike them, will never have to suffer the cruelties, vagaries, and disappointments of this world. This attitude of rural Tlaxcalans is often expressed verbally, but it is more eloquently exemplified by what they do and how they behave in the sequence from death to postburial rites. The entire complex acquires an air of festivity, as if it were a profane celebration. If the infant has been baptized, his padrinos (godparents) provide large quantities of liquor for the wake, and the drinking begins immediately after the padrinos have presented the infant's parents with the coffin in which he will be buried. If the infant has not been baptized, a set of padrinos is chosen and the same obtains. The wake (velorio) begins in a festive mood as the padrino or madrina, depending on the sex of the infant, toasts the coffin and entreats it to be a worthy and secure receptacle for the precious content that it is about to receive. The wake lasts all night, and, often to the chagrin of the infant's parents, who generally withdraw to another room of the house, it degenerates into a veritable feast, with lots of drinking, eating, card playing, and games such as nalgadas (a kind of slapping romp) and adivinanzas (a riddle game with penalties). Young and old participate, and the fun continues until the early hours of the morning. Between ten and eleven in the morning, the infant is buried, with the benefit of a mass in the local church or chapel and responses in the cemetery. Throughout the entire proceedings, the people sing to the accompaniment of happy music played by a hired band. There are no rosaries and no novenas, and the infant is buried in a simple fashion and his tomb decorated with white flowers. The death, wake, and burial rites for an infant, with their continued exuberance and happy mood from beginning to end, are in marked contrast to the sober and constrained rites for the death of an adult, even though similar ideological imperatives are at work. But vicarious relief does not entirely explain this seemingly grotesque attitude toward infant death, which is quite widespread in Mesoamerica. While in structure the complex appears to be Catholic (though in a socioreligious milieu that in Europe has not been part of a functioning subculture for more than four hundred years, unless it can perhaps still be found in remote areas in Sicily, Andalucia, or Albania), what explains its content is the deeply ingrained pre-Hispanic belief that children, especially infants, are the best intermediaries and conveyors of the supplications addressed by humans to the supernatural. Thus, 135

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when an infant dies of natural causes the people rejoice collectively insofar as they regard the dead infant's soul as one more link in the communication chain between the earthly and the supernatural, an addition to the corps of supernatural advocates that they must have for successful approaches to higher supernatural powers. This conception of the supernatural role of infants is expressed in the words of an informant: "Los angelitos siempre nos ayudan a que los poderes que nos gobiernan oigan nuestras suplicas. Yo siempre he creido que los angelitos son los mejores abogados que tenemos donde cuenta y por Io tanto hay que rezarles mucho y mantenerlos contentos." (The [souls of dead] infants and children [literally, little angels] always help us, so that the powers that govern us hear our supplications. I have always believed that the [souls of dead] infants and children are the best advocates we have where it counts, and thus, we must keep them happy and pray to them a lot.) What is done for dead infants on October 30 is not very elaborate. By that date, the preparations for Todos Santos have been completed, and the first offerings placed on the household altar are those to infants. Usually, they consist of specially baked pan de muerto, candied animal figurines, some particularly fine fruits such as chirimoya or guanabana (soursops, Annona cheritnoya and A. muricata), and a glass of milk. It is around these offerings that the arrangement and decoration of the household altar begin to take shape, for the offerings for the dead remembered on October 28 and 29 have a lower priority and come later. Generally in the early evening, the members of the household gather together in front of the altar, place the offerings on it, and remember the dead infants being honored. They recall how cute particular dead infants had been, or how well they had learned to walk and talk, or they recount some vignette illustrating how bright and alert they had been. They sing happy songs, and if a phonograph is available, they play festive music. Finally, the head of the household formally addresses the souls of the infants who are about to return to the people who cared for them when they were alive. He entreats the infant souls to continue the protection that they have always afforded to the household, and he promises them that he will make sure that they are properly honored throughout the year. This concludes the remembering rite, and the members of the household then return to the bustle of preparing for the next few days. At the turn of the century, and probably until the late 1920s, it was a generalized practice in rural Tlaxcala to arrange and decorate the tombs of infants on October 30. The practice now survives in only two communities. The general rule today is that all tombs are decorated on November 1 or 2, preferably the former. 136

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Infants who die as a result of having been sucked by the tlahuelpuchi receive an altogether different treatment. They have an anomalous place in the cult of the dead, stemming from the fact that they were in contact with a polluted, malevolent, abhorrent supernatural, which renders their souls incapable of serving as intermediaries between man and the supernatural. The great majority of infants regarded as having been sucked by the tlahuelpuchi die between midnight and six o'clock in the morning. By early afternoon of that day, a tezitlazc has been hired to perform a ritual cleansing of the dead infant, his mother, and the room where the bloodsucking took place. The cleansing rites begin in the early evening. In the room where the wake will be held, a table for the coffin is put to one side (or sometimes in the adjoining room), and the naked cadaver of the infant is placed on top of an oblique cross (one whose transom is not perpendicular to the longer arm) made of pine-wood ashes.8 The head of the infant rests on the intersection of the two arms of the cross, with his body along the longer arm. A copalcaxitl is placed at the foot of the cross, and the tezitlazc begins the cleansing rite. Picking up the burning copalcaxitl, he goes around the cross three times clockwise and three times counterclockwise, while reciting litanies in Nahuatl and invoking the protection of San Lorenzo, San Juan Bautista, La Malintzi, and El Cuatlapanga. He then returns the copalcaxitl to the foot of the cross, and with a bunch of capulin branches, leaves of ocoxochitl (a pine parasite), and dried roots of maguey, or century plant {Agave americana), tied together, he proceeds to cleanse the body of the infant from feet to head and from hand to hand three times, this time invoking for the infant the protection of Our Lord, the Holy Virgin, and the patron saint of the community. Then the cadaver is picked up by nonkinsmen, placed atop the coffin, and returned to the cross. The tezitlazc next cleanses the mother of the dead infant. She is placed against one of the walls of the room with her arms spread apart in the form of a cross, and with the same cleansing bunch that was used for the dead infant, the tezitlazc brushes the body of the mother three times from feet to head and from hand to hand in complete silence. He then asks the mother to bare her breasts, and he rubs them lightly with leaves of the zoapatl plant (Montanoa tomentosa) that he produces from a leather pouch on his belt. He returns the zoapatl leaves to his pouch and asks the mother to kiss the foot of the oblique cross underneath the table. These cleansing rites are performed in view of a large number of household members, kinsmen, and nonkinsmen. The presence of nonkinsmen is a requirement, for according to local custom in most communities, kinsmen cannot handle their own dead. The tezi137

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tlazc proceeds to cleanse the room where the infant was sucked by the tlahuelpuchi, by brushing the doors, windows, walls, floor, and ceiling with the cleansing bunch, again while reciting litanies and prayers in Nahuatl. The last event of the cleansing rites is the burial of the cleansing bunch, in a hole dug by the tezitlazc himself next to the temazcal, which he does while facing north and saying a prayer in Nahuatl. The conclusion of the rites signals the beginning of the wake, which is always attended by large numbers of people. Unlike the wake of infants who die of natural causes, the ambiance is somber and depressive; the conversation generally revolves about the evil nature of the tlahuelpuchi and the necessity to be always alert to counteract her loathsome propensities. The wake continues all night, and most people do not leave the household until the infant is buried next morning. The infant is taken to the cemetery in complete silence, a marked contrast to the music, rockets, and singing which accompany the burial of infants and children who die of natural causes. No responses are said when the coffin is lowered into the ground, and there is generally a great urgency of all concerned to get over the burial ceremonies as quickly as possible. All burial rites are done in utter silence, except that the padrino and madrina for the erection of the burial cross commend the soul of the infant to God. The company returns to the household where the infant was sucked and the traditional burial banquet immediately gets under way. After the ceremonial meal, all the clothing and other intimate possessions that belonged to the sucked infant are gathered together and burnt behind the house. The burial-cross padrino gathers the pinewood ashes of the oblique cross and buries them in a hole next to the temazcal. There is no octava de cruz (visit to the grave by the padrino and madrina on the eighth day after burial), no flowers are ever to be placed on the grave of the sucked infant, he is not to be memorialized on the household altar for Todos Santos, and his family and kinsmen are to avoid thinking about him, as if he had never existed. Despite this injunction to forget them, even these once-polluted humans have a supernatural role to play. Several tezitlazcs acknowledged that, in their role as weathermen, they address the souls of infants sucked by the tlahuelpuchi in their communication with and supplications to the masters of the natural elements, La Malintzi and El Cuatlapanga. This is, of course, no different from the way ordinary people worship and pray to the souls of infants who have died of natural causes. It is not clear why infants sucked by the tlahuelpuchi play this role in the tezitlazc's craft, but it may have something to do with the final destination of the souls of sucked infants (see chapter 10). 138

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October 31: Those Who Die as Children In rural Tlaxcala, the term "children"—ninos in Spanish, as distinct from angelitos or bebos, and sometimes miates, a vulgar Spanish word derived from the Nahuatl word miahuatl, "ear of corn"—generally applies to boys and girls between the ages of three or four and fourteen. It should be noted, however, that the social perception of chronological age may vary at the extremes of this category, a child who is five or even six years old is sometimes still regarded as an infant, while a twelve- or thirteen-year-old boy or girl is sometimes accorded the status of an adult. When this happens, the burial rites for the deceased determine its ultimate position in the cult of the dead. The demographic facts are pertinent here. Although the mortality rate is still fairly high at ages four and five, it declines dramatically after that. It thus appears that the real marker distinguishing between the categories of "infant" and "child" is the sharp break in the mortality rate that comes after age five. Rural Tlaxcala is no different from many culture areas in which idealized cultural distinctions and categorizations may have little descriptive and observable validity. The burial rites for children are very similar to those for infants. However, there is no doubt in the minds of rural Tlaxcalans that the souls of the dead infants are the most effective advocates and conveyors of human supplications; the souls of children are second, and those of adults, third. Correspondingly, the Todos Santos offerings for infants and children are quite different. In the end, however, in the year-round cult of the dead—the prayers, extra offerings, and other activities—the distinction between infants and children in practice disappears. On the morning of October 31, household members gather in front of the altar, and in a rather simple ceremony they place offerings on the altar in memory of the dead children who had once lived there. The most common offerings are small loaves of pan de muerto, rosquetes (semisweet, pretzel-shaped confections), human figures made of pumpkin seeds and other ingredients, sweet tamales, special fruits such as apples or pears, and any dish or treat the child especially enjoyed while alive. An item of clothing that the child particularly liked may also be placed on the altar. If such an item has not been kept, conservative households may buy a new one. The arrangement of the offerings (as well as of all other offerings) is done in standardized and stylized patterns to be discussed later. Then the members of the household proceed to recall, entreat, and reassure the dead children in very much the same fashion as had been done for dead infants the previous day. Perhaps the only significant difference between these ceremonies and those for dead 139

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infants is that the children of the household do the decorating and placing of the offerings on the altar for dead children, while in the case of infants this is a task undertaken by adults only. It should be noted that the cult of the dead in rural Tlaxcala, whether concerned with infants, children, or adults, exhibits no discrimination by sex. Individually, people may favor particular male or female dead in the offerings made for Todos Santos or in availing themselves of their power of intercession throughout the year, but formally and institutionally, the souls of the dead male and female infants, children, and adults are equally powerful or efficacious in their respective domains. After the rites of October 30 and 31, there are three fixed, institutionalized occasions during the year when the people worship and propitiate the souls of both dead infants and dead children: February 2, Candlemas; June 26, for reasons unknown; and the entire month of August. Each of these occasions emphasizes one or another aspect of the cult of dead infants and children. According to orthodox Catholic ritual, February 2, Dia de la Candelaria (Candlemas), celebrates the purification of the Virgin Mary. It is not an official religious holiday, and it passes unnoticed in most urban areas of Mexico. In rural Tlaxcala, as in most of rural Mexico, however, the day not only celebrates the purification of Mary, but, more importantly, it is also associated with the bendicion de las semillas y de los animates (blessing of the seeds and animals). Many people bring animals (dogs, chickens, turkeys, sheep, goats, and occasionally cows, mules, and donkeys) and small quantities of seeds (of corn, wheat, fruit, shrubs, and so on) for the priest to bless in the atrium of the local church or chapel. The blessing of the seeds and animals is a symbolic act of intensification, for the people believe that the blessed seeds (which they mix with the total amount to be sown) will yield better crops, and that the blessed animals will not only grow fatter and healthier themselves but, by a kind of convection, will similarly benefit the rest of the owner's domestic animals. The cult of the dead infants and children on this occasion is a continuation of or a complement to the blessing of the seeds and animals. In the evening, members of the household gather before the altar for what may be regarded as a reinforcement of the earlier rite in the atrium. The altar always includes at least one picture or small statue of the child Jesus, by himself or in the company of Joseph and/or Mary, and this serves as the focal point of reference in all rites concerning the cult of dead infants and children. The seeds that had been blessed earlier are placed before the altar, while the children of the household, sitting on the floor around the altar, hold some of the blessed animals in 140

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order to keep them quiet for the duration of the rite. The head of the household or another elder male member of the family leads in a rosary, followed by singing, in which the entire company participates. The women of the household then place white flowers in front of the image of the child Jesus, while the males of the household place a burning copalcaxitl at the base of the altar for each of the infants and children being remembered. While this is being done, individual members of the household call out the names of the infants and children and remind them to continue the protection of those who have always been concerned for their eternal well-being. This is followed by the verbal exhortation of the souls of infants and children, which is done by the person who led the rosary. He entreats them to continue their protection of those who are still in this world and have cared for them, to intercede for them before the higher supernaturals, and above all on this particular occasion, to make the seeds mature so that they will multiply a thousandfold and to make the animals bear many litters. In return, he assures the souls that the entire household will do its best to sing to their glory, remember them often, and honor them with flowers and candles. The rite comes to an end when the officiant picks up the picture or statue of the child Jesus, touches the animals with it, returns it to the altar, and places a few of the blessed seeds at its feet. The animals are led out of the room, but the seeds remain there until the next day, when they are mixed with the rest of the seeds to be sown that year. In the rite of June z6, the members of the household again gather in the evening around the family altar, this time to ask the souls of infants and children to protect the infants of the household against being sucked by the tlahuelpuchi in the months to come and, indirectly, to give their mothers the strength and vigilance to ward off this evil anthropomorphic supernatural. Even if there are no infants in the household who are at the age when they are in danger of being sucked by the tlahuelpuchi, the rite takes place just the same, and the assembled company entreats the souls of infants and children to protect all the infants in the neighborhood and community who are at the dangerous age. In addition to the flowers and incense presented to the souls of infants and children whenever the people propitiate them, thank them, or ask them for a favor, on this particular occasion a number of devices of protection against being sucked by the tlahuelpuchi are placed on the household altar next to the picture or statue of the child Jesus. Some of the most common devices are metal objects such as a pair of scissors or a medal, mirrors, and crosses made of various materials. In adding to their mnemonic symbolism, these devices are an admonition to the 141

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mothers of infants to employ all means of protection against the tlahuelpuchi in order to safeguard the lives of their infants. Although it is not known why this rite takes place specifically on June 2.6, there does seem to be a reason for its occurrence at about that time. The belief system underlying the tlahuelpuchi complex holds that it is during the rainiest and the coldest months of the year that this anthro­ pomorphic supernatural is most thirsty for the blood of infants. The rainy season begins in Tlaxcala sometime between mid-May and early June. By late June it is raining hard, and July and August are the rainiest months of the year. There follow about two and a half months of mild weather, but around the middle of November the weather generally turns chilly, followed by the coldest months of the year, December, Jan­ uary, and the early part of February. The majority of infant deaths at­ tributed to the tlahuelpuchi take place between June 15 and September ι or between November 15 and February 1, and the people are very much aware of that. It thus seems natural that a rite of protection against bloodsucking witchcraft should be performed at the beginning of the first of the two most dangerous periods of the year. The incidence of bloodsucking witchcraft is extremely high in rural Tlaxcala, and the people are very earnest about the execution of this rite of protection. The decoration of the graves of infants and children with flowers during the month of August (already mentioned in chapter 2) is not necessarily a structured rite but is rather a generalized propitiatory ac­ tion in which the people ask the souls of infants and children to in­ tercede before El Cuatlapanga and La Malintzi in order that hail or tor­ rential rains, which are common in this month, not destroy the maturing crops. Unlike the rather universal observance of the rites of February 2 and June 26, those of August are confined to six or seven communities on the higher slopes of La Malintzi (although as late as the mid-i920s, the observance was quite widespread). Families go to the cemetery on the first Friday in August and on four consecutive Fridays thereafter to decorate with white flowers (generally gladioli or baby's breath) the grave of one of their dead infants or children. As late as 1967,1 saw as many as thirty flower-decorated graves of infants and children during the month of August. After the grave has been deco­ rated, a few prayers and perhaps a rosary are said, and the ceremony ends with a supplication to the souls of infants and children, although the ultimate objects of the propitiation are the traditional masters of the natural elements, El Cuatlapanga and La Malintzi. The action in­ volves both Catholic and pagan elements, but in the traditional rural Tlaxcalan fashion of not mixing the two whenever possible, the tute­ lary mountain owners are not mentioned. 142

THE CULT OF THE DEAD: STRUCTURE AND RITUAL

Even in acculturated communities, the graves of infants and children are sometimes decorated in August. Upon questioning, some people did say that they were propitiating the souls of infants and children, but all associations with El Cuatlapanga and La Malintzi had been lost. This is a good example of how many well-integrated pagan-Catholic beliefs and practices have evolved in the twentieth century, until only forms and physical manifestations remain. The propitiatory and supplicatory activities connected with the cult of dead infants and children that go on in August frequently involve the ministrations of a tezitlazc. In two of the communities in which these rites remain most traditional and in full force, the people are so afraid of hailstorms that they hire a tezitlazc to lead the propitiation, at least for the first Friday in August. Because of his functions as a weatherman, the tezitlazc's participation would be expected to enhance the protective supplication. It should be added that many of the private rites and actions of protection, propitiation, and supplication of the cult of the dead have a public counterpart, involving the mayordomia system and the ayuntamiento religioso as well as the tezitlazc. Finally, there are a number of noninstitutionalized occasions, occurring sporadically throughout the year, in which individuals or households invoke the souls of infants and children in their main role as supernatural intercessors. In this role, the souls of infants and children function like the cult of any of the saints: the people propitiate them by means of prayers, flowers, candles, and other offerings; ask favors of them by means of a tnanda (a promise in exchange for a supernatural favor); and entreat them for protection by singing their eternal glory. The main occasions of this kind are pleas for the recovery of a sick infant or child; for a child's success in school; for protection on a long or arduous journey; for success in the preparation and execution of social or religious feasts; and for a variety of individual pleadings. The household altar remains the focal point of the worship, but occasionally individuals and families may take the pleading and supplication to the image of the child Jesus in the local church. As one can see, the cult of the souls of infants and children is a rather rich domain in rural Tlaxcalan folk religion.

143

·5· THE CELEBRATION OF TODOS SANTOS: FROM ALL SAINTS DAY TO THE OCTAVA OF ALL SOULS DAY

The celebrations on November ι and 2 are the heart of Todos Santos. These two days are implictly dedicated to all the saints in the Catholic pantheon, while they explicitly honor all dead persons in general and dead adults in particular. For reasons already discussed, it is unlikely that All Saints Day in rural Tlaxcala was ever more important than All Souls Day in the cult of the dead. Rather, the syncretic development of Todos Santos consisted essentially of adding to the combined celebra­ tion of All Saints Day and All Souls Day the pre-Hispanic specialization of the cult of the dead, which was seen in its Christian clothing in the previous chapter. In rural Tlaxcala, the term "adult" includes all males and females more than fourteen or fifteen years old, and it is the largest age group. The rural Tlaxcalan who reaches the age of five has an excellent chance of living until the age of seventy or more. Between the ages of twenty and sixty, more people probably die as the result of violence and acci­ dents than of illness. The social category of "old adult" is regarded as a somewhat honored status and as one of the rewards of life in this world. If individuals die before reaching the age of sixty, particularly if they die in early middle age, the people ask themselves what the de­ ceased did to deserve such a fate. The most common answers to this question are that the deceased did not comply with their duties and ob­ ligations toward the supernatural (especially in the discharge of the rit­ uals and ceremonies of the folk religion), or that they did not behave properly toward kinsmen, compadres, or friends.

CATEGORIES OF DEAD ADULTS

It was said previously that the cult of dead adults ranks below that of infants and children. A more felicitous way of expressing this relation­ ship is in terms of a division of labor between the souls of these different categories of the dead. Supplications to dead infants and children are made primarily as means of ensuring good crops and warding off the hazards of the natural elements, and secondarily as protection against the evil power of bloodsucking witches and on behalf of infants and 144

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children when they are sick or otherwise in difficult straits. Supplications to the souls of dead adults are made for quite different reasons: primarily for their help as guides and advisors in leading good and honorable lives (a buen vivir) and, as death approaches, in dying peacefully [a bien morir), and secondarily as means to find lost objects and to promote the recovery of sick adults. The cult of dead adults also has some fertility aspects, not unlike those described for the cult of dead infants and children, but these aspects appear in only a few communities. There is no question in the minds of the people that dead infants are more powerful than dead children in their sphere of activity, although in practice this difference tends to become blurred in the manifestations of the cult. But dead adults do not compete in the same sphere with dead infants and children. Thus, one can say that dead infants and children rank "higher" than dead adults as intermediaries and supernatural advocates only to the extent that for rural Tlaxcalans good crops and a degree of control over the natural elements are supreme priorities. From the viewpoint of the public aspects of the cult of the dead, however, dead adults are much more prominent than dead infants and children, as indicated by the character of the mayordomias in the average rural Tlaxcalan community whose objects are forms or aspects of the cult of the dead. Reference has already been made (chapter 3) to the three kinds of dead souls: blessed souls, blessed souls of all saints, and blessed souls in purgatory. Blessed souls are the souls of all persons who have died in a state of grace and have gone directly to heaven. Since the souls of dead saints are obviously in heaven, the blessed souls of all saints form a special class of blessed souls. Although it is highly probable that rural Tlaxcalans discriminated between the cult of the blessed souls and that of the blessed souls of all saints up until about a century ago, this is no longer the case today, though it is possible that the distinction may have survived in a few communities. Mayordomias of las animas de todos santos still exist in many communities, but they are no longer concerned with the cult of the souls of all saints but rather with the coordination of the public activities of Todos Santos and of a number of other occasions. For all practical purposes, the cult of the souls of all saints, as a separate manifestation of the cult of the dead, has disappeared from rural Tlaxcala. Thus, there are now essentially two categories of dead adults: those who go directly to heaven, that is, the blessed souls; and those who go to purgatory, that is, the blessed souls in purgatory. Both categories are memorialized on November 1, but there are also institutionalized occasions throughout the year when they are worshipped separately. M5

CHAPTER 5

Those who die violently or as the result of accidents are considered to be in the general category of dead adults, and as such they are also remembered on November i. But they are not worshipped and propitiated like "normal" dead adults. The fact that October 28 and 29 are set aside to remember those who die in accidents and by violence, respectively, is an indication of their anomalous position in the cult of the dead. The rites that take place during these days are not integral parts of the cult of the dead, but rather are rites of protection and atonement undertaken in order to diminish certain natural risks and restore the human-supernatural balance. With the exception of suicides and infants sucked by the tlahuelpuchi, rural Tlaxcalans remember all their dead during Todos Santos. But adults and children who die as the result of accidents and adults who die violently are considered "bad risks," and thus, unlike other categories of the dead, they are never singled out for worship and propitiation. Although victims of accidental deaths are not intrinsically blamed for their fate, and they may go either to heaven or to purgatory, depending on the state of grace in which they die, the people regard them as somewhat "unlucky" (that is, lacking that particular, individualized supernatural protection for which rural Tlaxcalans strive so hard) and therefore unsuitable to serve as supernatural mediators. 1 Those who die by violence, on the other hand, are held very much responsible for their fate, for in one way or another they precipitated their violent deaths. At best, they may go to purgatory, but they are never invoked in the supplications addressed to the dead. Indeed, except for suicides, those who die violently are regarded as the most "unfortunate" individuals in rural TIaxcalan society. Rural Tlaxcalans may be said to suffer from the fallacy of misplaced concreteness; that is, they verbalize their notions about the world, their feelings about people and things, and their attitudes toward and conception of man and the supernatural concretely and contextually, and it is hard for them to think analytically and abstractly. But there are exceptions, and during my many years in rural Tlxacala I have had the good fortune to find half a dozen informants who were able to analyze many obscure points in the TIaxcalan ideology, belief system, and imago mundi in rational, almost scientific terms. 1 The preceding description, a kind of practical man's theology of the cult of the dead in rural Tlaxcala, was first inferred from the ritual and ceremonial behavior of people in action, but it was then largely confirmed by three or four of these exceptional informants, who displayed an extraordinary degree of theological sophistication and a vast and detailed knowledge of ritual and ceremony, both Catholic and pagan. It is a curious observation that the folk religion of rural Tlaxcalans 146

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has incorporated with some degree of orthodoxy the Catholic concepts of heaven, limbo, and purgatory, but not the concept of hell. When rural Tlaxcalans talk about the dead and their final destination they have no trouble in verbalizing who goes where: unbaptized infants go to limbo; other infants and children go to heaven; adults who die in a state of grace also go to heaven; and adults who die with sins on their conscience go to purgatory. The idea that those who die in a state of venial sin go to purgatory and those who die in a state of mortal sin go to hell plays no part in this belief system. Indeed, the conception of "sin" is itself not the conventional Catholic one. Given the essentially pragmatic conception of the human-supernatural relationship, a sin is not a transgression of the moral order, but rather the failure of an individual to comply with what is ritually and ceremonially expected of him in his relationships with the supernatural, or with his obligations to his fellow humans in the domain of socially prescribed personal and collective relationships. Thus, to die in "a state of grace" means to rural Tlaxcalans that an individual is at that moment in good standing with the supernaturals and with his fellow humans, for he has done all that is required of him ritually and ceremonially, and he has been good, generous, cooperative, and so on, with his kinsmen, compadres, and friends; while to die in "a state of sin" means that the individual's standing with the supernaturals or the people around him is wanting, for he has done something to wrong them, and therefore he must be punished by going to purgatory. Yet the concept of hell is seldom verbalized, and when rural Tlaxcalans are asked about it, they are apt to deny its existence. In this respect, their theology deviates greatly from orthodox Catholocism. Rural Tlaxcalans do not seem to be able to think in terms of such drastic punishment. The old people especially feel uncomfortable when the priest talks about the damnation of hell in his church sermons. When the people do talk about hell (for example, when a disaster strikes and provokes agitation among them), it is generally to ponder whether such a terrible place could exist and to marvel at the harshness of the God who would have created it. The denial of hell makes sense only if it is assumed that pre-Hispanic beliefs have survived and have been accommodated within the folkCatholic framework. Since the people believe that one who cheats, lies, steals, behaves negatively and maliciously, rapes, or murders will be punished in this world by one's fellow humans, there is no need for the eternal punishment prescribed by Catholic theology. While the people have internalized the Catholic concepts of limbo, heaven, and purgatory, even if in an unorthodox fashion, they have not been able to do so 147

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with the concept of hell, which remains to them too much of a super­ natural aberration. (Limbo was probably the easiest of the final desti­ nations in the Catholic afterlife for Tlaxcalan Indians to comprehend and internalize, for this concept is quite similar to that of Tonacacuauhtitlan, the final destination of children who died in infancy in preHispanic times). They can accept the idea that the supernatural may punish transgressions with bad crops, bad health, and generally bad luck, but they cannot conceive a deity cruel enough to impose an eter­ nal punishment, no matter how horrendous and abhorrent the human transgression. NOVEMBER Ι : HONORING DEAD ADULTS

Rural Tlaxcalans believe that the souls of the dead begin to return to where they lived in this world at 3 p.m. on October 31. It is important that the household altar be arranged and decorated before the souls of the dead arrive, if at all possible. As noted before (chapter 4), the cere­ monies for dead children end by noon at the latest, and the ceremonies for dead adults then begin. The practice of honoring dead infants and children by placing on the household altar items of clothing, sweets, and treats that they particularly liked while they were alive is more pro­ nounced, elaborate, and generalized in the case of dead adults. Ciga­ rettes, liquor, musical instruments, work utensils, and so on, are added to the items on the household altar. The people firmly believe that one of the most effective means of propitiating the souls of the dead, and assuring themselves of their protection, is to regale them on their yearly return with what they were fond of when they were alive. The people say that every offering made to the souls of the dead on the household altar, in the cemetery, and on various occasions throughout the year is nothing more than the extension of good social relations as they are conducted on earth with kinsmen, compadres, and friends. This dec­ laration of selflessness masks the essentially selfish and pragmatic atti­ tude of rural Tlaxcalans, which pervades the human-supernatural cov­ enant and structures most of their ritual and ceremonial life. The mounds of food, drink, fruit, clothing, and other offerings, which had been neatly stacked in baskets (chiquihuites), are arranged around the offerings for dead infants and children already in place. This activity, in which children as well as adults participate, may take two or three hours. In the most traditional households, it is timed so that at the stroke of 3 p.m. the rite of remembering dead adults can be initiated. Shortly before that, and regardless of the stage at which the arrangement of the altar may be, the celebrants cease their activity. Led 148

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by the head of the household, they proceed to mark the walk that the returning souls of the dead will follow to the household altar. In the morning, the women of the household had prepared a basket of fragrant zempoalxochitl petals which were sprinkled with holy water from the church. The head of the household, aided by male adults and children, now strews the petals in a line that goes from the street (or path leading to the house), through the yard or courtyard, to the foot of the altar. The petals are intended to help the returning souls find their way to the household altar, for the people believe that, although dead souls cannot see, they have well-developed senses of hearing and smell. The rite of remembrance that follows is a rather simple affair. The dead adults are entreated and reassured in much the same fashion as are dead infants and children, except that the proceedings are much less exuberant, almost sad. Specific dead adults are not necessarily remembered, and no vignettes concerning them are recounted. Rather, the accent is on dead adults in general, and this is symbolized by the saying of a rosary and by response-like entreaties addressed to the souls of all dead adults. By four or five in the afternoon, all the functions centered on the household altar are over, and the people busy themselves with exchanges of presents (mostly baskets of pan de muertos and fruit) among kinsmen, compadres, and neighbors, until the main event of the day, the vigil in the local cemetery. The Vigil of La Llorada or Xochatl By 9 p.m. on November i, all the souls of the dead are believed to have arrived and to be hovering in or near the households where they lived, and they make their presence felt everywhere within the community. The people also believe that the returning souls enjoy their offerings most in the absence of living humans. Consequently, the elders of the household make sure that sometime after 9 p.m. the room where the offerings have been placed in front of the altar is left empty of people for two or three hours. In the most traditional rural Tlaxcalan households, the room is locked at 10 p.m. and not reopend until 6 a.m. the following day. After the returning souls have enjoyed the food, delighted in the treats, and reminisced about their lives in this world by sensing the things that they held dear, the people say that the returning souls join them in the cemetery for a vigil then in progress. This is La Llorada—"The Weeping" {Xochatl in Nahuatl)—the one public, communal occasion in the annual cycle when the living and the dead symbolically come together: the former to remember, entreat, and propitiate the dead on behalf of the community, the latter to rejoice in the 149

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company of the living whom they held dear and to reassure them of their continuing protection and intercession. Every rural Tlaxcalan community has a cemetery. Until perhaps the middle of the nineteenth century, the cemetery was usually an extension of the atrium of the church, often surrounding the church on all sides. Shortly before the turn of the century, this arrangement became inadequate, for there was no longer space available for new burials, even though many rural Tlaxcalan families buried their dead in the same grave generation after generation. By the first decade of the twentieth century, many communities had established new cemeteries, generally at the edge of the nucleated settlement. In 1940 and again in 1965, the Department of Colonial Monuments of the National Institute of Anthropology and History declared that the dead were no longer to be buried in church atria, and it tried to enforce this order. Today (1984), in addition to the atrium cemetery, most rural Tlaxcalan communities have a separate cemetery. In many communities, all the graves were removed from the atrium when the new cemetery was established, and the atrium was transformed into either a tile-covered esplanade or a small garden-park with trees and shrubs. In the most traditional communities, La Llorada takes place in the atrium (where many of the graves and small mausoleum-like constructions are still in place), but in the majority of communities it takes place in the new cemetery. In both cases, La Llorada has the same form, and for the sake of convenience it will be described here as taking place in the cemetery. The term "La Llorada" is a misnomer, for there is no weeping or crying in the cemetery during the vigil. Rather, it is a sad and yet quietly happy occasion—like Todos Santos in general, a time of thanksgiving for the good things the harvest has brought. The people begin to arrive in the cemetery before 9 p.m., bringing with them tamales, sweet bread, liquor, and other victuals. They also bring candles, which they light on the graves of their dead as soon as they arrive. At the same time, the community's band and its teponaxtle y chirimia ensemble (a traditional drum and flute band, with three to seven musicians) converge on the cemetery, where they will play throughout the night, until 5 a.m., when La Llorada ends. For seven to eight hours, the band plays almost constantly, alternating between sad, monotonous music and rather gay and brisk music. When the band takes an occasional break, the teponaxtle y chirimia ensemble takes over, playing music that is always sad and somewhat dissonant. The teponaxtle y chirimia ensemble may play by itself for as long as half an hour, but at times they join the band, and the resulting music is plaintive and strange. At times, the band plays church music or the music of the mass adapted for singing, such as the 150

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Kyrie eleison and the Agnus Dei, and the assembled people join in. At midnight, another teponaxtle y chirimia ensemble stations itself in the atrium of the church and plays there for the remaining five hours of La Llorada. If there are two bands in the community, one of them also plays in the atrium for the remainder of the vigil. Meanwhile, the bells of the church have been tolling since 8 p.m., and they will continue to toll until after the eight-o'clock mass in honor of the dead the following morning. The bell ringers, sometimes as many as a dozen, are generally kinsmen or compadres of the campanero (chief bell ringer, one of several officers of the local ayuntamiento religioso), or they are simply members of the same barrio. In the most traditional communities, the bell ringers are locked in the belfry of the church shortly before 8 p.m. and are not let out until after the mass for the dead has been held the following morning. The fiscales and the mayordomos of the Todos Santos celebration must provide plenty of food and drink for the bell ringers to last them for the night, as they take turns at tolling the bells. Rural Tlaxcalans believe that harmonious sounds are pleasing to the benevolent supernaturals and spirits of their universe. In the present context, the tolling of the church bells is a collective welcome to the returning souls of the dead, and in many communities the bell ringers try to compose chiming melodies, for which at least three communities are well known in the area. On the other hand, it may be noted that noise, especially loud and discordant noise, serves to ward off and drive away malevolent spirits. It is in this fashion, for example, that wooden rattles (matracas), firecrackers (cuetes), and shouting are used on a number of occasions, such as Holy Week and burials. After lighting the candles on the grave or graves of their kinsmen, the members of the household kneel on the ground and commend themselves to the souls of their dearly departed. The most devout will say a rosary or two, but more commonly a few paternosters and Ave Marias are recited. This rather brief event constitutes the extent of the private aspect of La Llorada. Immediately afterward, the people begin to assemble at a designated spot, usually just inside the cemetery gate. (The pre-19io cemeteries are almost invariably surrounded by an adobe or masonry wall, and access to them is through an arched, rather ornate gate. Newer cemeteries do not have these elaborations, and this is especially the case with those established in 1950 and later, which are simply affairs not noticeably demarcated from the adjacent cultivated plots, or milpas.) The musicians are playing there already, and the people start a bonfire and congregate around it. Until about 1940, it was the obligation of the main mayordomia of Todos Santos to provide 151

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enough wood to keep the fire going for the length of La Llorada, but nowadays the attending people individually bring whatever wood they can for the occasion. There is a moderate amount of eating and drinking during La Llorada, but it never degenerates into a drinking bout, and the occasional individual who does get drunk is taken out of the cemetery. It is the obligation of the attending company to provide food and drink for the musicians, which they consume during their periodic breaks. It is evident that the eating and drinking that go on during La Llorada are a commensal occasion, in which the living partake of food and drink at the cemetery while the returning souls of the dead do the same in the quiet of the room where the household offerings have been placed. My oldest informants say that almost the entire community used to gather in the cemetery or the atrium of the church for La Llorada and that after the stroke of midnight nobody was allowed to leave until it was over at 5 a.m. By the mid-1950s, the custom had changed significantly; people now come and go as they please, and only the most traditional spend the entire eight hours of the vigil in the cemetery. However, most adults still spend two or three hours in the cemetery, generally between midnight and 3 a.m. The reason for this is the belief that, after the veritable banquet enjoyed by the returning souls in the closed or locked room where the offerings were placed, they converge on the cemetery, beginning shortly after midnight. The high point of La Llorada is between 1 and 2 a.m., when not infrequently more than half of the adults and children of the community are gathered in the cemetery. It is at this time that the collective worship and propitiation of the souls of the dead are most clearly manifested. Led by the officials of the various mayordomias of Todos Santos, the congregants address the dead souls in their midst, entreating them to protect the crops and make them produce abundantly, to watch over the health and property of the community, and to intercede kindly before the higher supernaturals on behalf of each and every member of the community. The supplications proceed in the following fashions: MAYORDOMO: "Oh, blessed souls who have kindly returned to us [lifting his eyes toward the sky] to participate with us in this day of remembrance, find it in the goodness of your hearts to protect us and to shelter us." ATTENDING COMPANY: "Blessed souls in heaven and purgatory, protect us and shelter us." MAYORDOMO: "Oh, glorious and blessed souls who are in heaven, and also those who will soon enjoy the glory of God [that 152

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is, those still in purgatory], look over our crops and animals and make them fertile and abundant." ATTENDING COMPANY: "Blessed souls in heaven and purgatory, protect us, help us, and give us abundant sustenance." MAYORDOMO: "Oh, blessed and generous souls who are with us again this year, watch over our property, make us healthy, and put into the hearts of the people of this community the goodness that is so characteristically yours." ATTENDING COMPANY: "Blessed souls in heaven and purgatory, be good to us, and we shall always honor and remember you." There follows a long litany of invocations specifically addressed to the souls of infants, children, and adults who died in various ways—one for the souls of those who died in accidents, another for those who died violently, another for children who died a natural death, and so on. All the possible combinations of age and circumstance of death are honored with a supplication, and the entire proceeding may last as long as an hour. Until about the mid-i93os, upon the conclusion of the supplication to each particular category of dead souls, one or more kinsmen of an individual who had died in that fashion would go to his grave and light a candle. This custom has now fallen into disuse, and those concerned are content with remembering the deceased's name or uttering it aloud. By 2 a.m., most of the people begin to leave the cemetery, but not before they say a prayer or two, kneeling by the tombs of their kinsmen. Most adults do not go to bed on the night of La Llorada. After the room of the offerings is closed to allow the returning dead to partake of the food and drink in peace, the people may do a number of things. Some wander in and out of the cemetery, before or after the formal entreaty to the returning souls. Others busy themselves with the distribution of the traditional ofrendas, the baskets of pan de muertos and fruit that they exchange with particular kinds of kinsmen, compadres, and friends (of which more below), or amble through the settlement talking to friends, gossiping, and doing a moderate amount of drinking. And finally there are the teenagers and unmarried young men and women who seize upon the occasion to court, discreetly make merry, and get together in an approved manner. In rural Tlaxcala, there is none of the slightly malevolent or threatening connotation that similar vigils have in some European contexts (particularly under the influence of northern Indo-European polytheism), including the more acculturated sectors of Mexican society. Instead, rural Tlaxcalans look upon the vigil of La Llorada as an auspicious occasion, when the souls of the 153

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dead, with a few notable exceptions, return not to frighten or harm the living but to reassure them of their continuing protection and to promise them good things for the future. The most traditional segment of the community stays in the cemetery until 5 a.m. Mostly, these are the same people who still adhere to the practice of locking the room of the offerings from 10 p.m. until the following morning. The typical rural Tlaxcalan community still has a relatively high number of traditionalists, and it is not unusual for three or four hundred people to remain in the cemetery until the end. With the sometimes lugubrious and sometimes happy musical background of the band and the teponaxtle y chirimia ensemble, the people eat, drink, and remember their dead. More than in any of the several rites and ceremonies of Todos Santos the last hours of La Llorada demonstrate the rather tenuous boundary that separates the living from the dead. Engulfed by the darkness of the night, and on the spot of the mortal remains of the dead, they and the living seem joined in a single world of existence. It is a peaceful and soothing experience, for in the traditional belief system of rural Tlaxcalans, these are moments to ponder on the rewards that lie at the end of the earthly journey. In this view of the world, the people can rejoice over the ultimate reward of human existence, regardless of the pain and toil of earthly life and the penance and suffering experienced by most (in purgatory) before reaching eternal bliss. At exactly 5 a.m., the main mayordomo gives a signal and the bonfire is extinguished, the candles still burning on the tombs are blown out, and, following the band and the teponaxtle y chirimia ensemble, the attending company returns to the church atrium in procession. The band plays the local version of reveille, and the people return to their homes. Until about the mid-i930s, it was the obligation of the stewards of the Todos Santos mayordomia or mayordomias to invite all in attendance for breakfast, but again this custom is no longer practiced. NOVEMBER 2: HONORING ALL THE DEAD

In rural Tlaxcala, the mass in honor of all the dead (misa de Todos Santos) is supposed to take place at 8 a.m. on November 2. In many cases, however, this does not in fact happen. There has always been a shortage of priests in rural Tlaxcala; during the mid-1950s, there were approximately twenty priests for the twenty-one municipios of the region. Thus, only the parish churches have a resident priest, and the other churches have to make do with a visiting priest. On November 2, the twenty priests conduct an average of four or five masses, and there have 154

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been cases when a priest officiated at as many as eight. The problem is compounded by the fact that the ideal mass for the dead is cantada y de tres ministros (concelebrated high mass, or responsorial [antiphonous] mass with three officiating priests). Probably not more than four or five communities, even in those parishes with a resident priest, are able to arrange a concelebrated high mass at 8 a.m. There is a veritable scramble for priests for November z, and the stewards of the mayordomia in charge of the mass go as far as Mexico City in their search. Dates are contracted months in advance. This is a highly advantageous situation for the priests, who are not above raising their fees to capitalize on the intense demand. Probably half of the communities without a resident priest are not able to arrange for a local mass. The people in these communities must attend the mass for the dead in their parish church or in the church of a nearby community that was able to secure an officiating priest. Whether the mass is a concelebrated high mass (which may last as long as two hours) or a simple chanted mass (which usually lasts slightly less than a hour), it is an essentially orthodox rite with few if any local folk elements. After the mass, the people hurry to their homes, for the main events of the day are yet to come. The Public Aspects and Social Activities of All Souls Day At the turn of the century, there was an official in the ayuntamiento religioso of most rural Tlaxcalan communities whose duties included care of the atrium and the cemetery. The name of this official varied from community, but the most common one was merino, or foreman. He and his five to ten attendants (topiles de iglesia) were responsible for sweeping and policing the atrium and the courtyard and walks of the cemetery, and in general for maintaining the cemetery in good order. They periodically reminded people to weed and clean the area where the graves of their dead were located. By the middle of the twentieth century, this function of the merino had disappeared, and the cemeteries had taken on a rather unkempt look for most of the year. However, the merino and his attendants continued to function as coordinators of the faena (communal labor) organized to weed, clean, and beautify the cemetery and the atrium for the Todos Santos celebration. By midday of November 1, the cemetery has been transformed, from the disorderly place that it had become by late October, into a tidy area where the tombstones have been cleaned, the mounds of the tombs smoothed out, the crosses put in place, and the walks and courtyard swept clean. The cemetery is ready for the decoration of the tombs, which traditionally takes place on November 2.. 155

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After the mass for the dead, the people make their last-minute preparations for the trek to the cemetery. Some younger members of the household may have gone there earlier in order to ready the grounds for the arrival of the household entourage. The decoration of the tombs is a function of the household, but on this particular occasion the household is often expanded to include kinsmen (especially young married couples) residing neolocally. To put it differently, the operational kinship unit in this context is the nonresidential extended family—that is, a group of households related collaterally (usually by the brotherbrother tie) or lineally (usually by the father-son tie) and living in the same paraje (neighborhood, or, more specifically, a well-defined area of land in which most of the households are related by kinship and/or compadrazgo ties). (In the absence of clearly structured bilateral kinship units beyond the extended family, the patrilineally biased nonresidential extended family is the only operational kinship unit in rural Tlaxcala; see Nutini 1968:241-243.) All the necessary elements for the decoration are ceremonially carried to the cemetery by the head of the household and the attending kinsmen. Upon arriving, the head of the household leads the company in a few prayers, and by noon at the latest, the task of decorating the graves begins. Depending on the complexity and elaboration of the decorations, it may take as long as four or five hours. It must be completed by four o'clock in the afternoon, for the people believe that the returning souls of the dead should have plenty of time to enjoy the decorations on the place of their mortal remains before it grows dark. After a farewell prayer, again led by the head of the household, the attending company leaves the cemetery, though a few individuals may linger on for a while. Two or three days in advance, the household begins to prepare for the ceremonial meal of November 2, one of the two most elaborate household celebrations in the annual cycle. The ancestral household of the nonresidential extended family becomes the hub of social interaction for both resident and returning members, some of whom may not have resided in the community for as long as two generations. (Permanent outward migration began to assume significant dimensions around the middle 1950s, and a substantial proportion of extended families in the typical community now has nonresident members. Rural Tlaxcalans regard nonresident members as part of the community for as long as they return regularly for the Todos Santos celebration.) The ceremonial meal is a banquet often attended by as many as fifty or sixty kinsmen, and it is the most conspicuous occasion for the intensification and renewal that so characterize Todos Santos. From the viewpoint of kinship, it is the most important occasion in the annual cycle for the 156

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manifestation of the reassurance, solidification, and strengthening of the ties that unite the nonresidential extended family as a fairly wellstructured and operational exocentric kindred. The ceremonial meal generally takes place between 4 and 8 p.m. At this time of the year the weather is still pleasantly mild, and the meal is usually served on tables set up in the courtyard of the ancestral household, which is invariably of the solar (compound) type (see Nutini 1968:177-179). Most of the important occasions in the life and annual cycles (marriage, baptism, Christmas, Holy Week, the day of the patron saint of the community, and so on) are marked by the serving of particular kinds of food, but for the Todos Santos celebration there is no such specialization; all the dishes known to rural Tlaxcalan cuisine can be, and often are, served. The piece de resistance is generally mole prieto or mole Colorado (made of turkey, chicken, or beef), but fried fish, fish in mole sauce, fried rice, refried beans, potato pancakes, salads, fruit salads, and other dishes are also served. In addition, a wide variety of treats, delicacies, and sweets are offered: tamales, enchiladas, chalupas, cocoles, gorditas, tlatlapas, and many of the more than twenty varieties of fruits and sweets that have been bought in excess of what was needed for the offerings to the dead. The pan de muertos is not eaten on this occasion; in the most traditional households, it cannot be eaten until the last offering to kinsmen, compadres, and friends has been exchanged. Both men and women consume pulque, beer, bottled liquor, aguardiente de cana (sugarcane liquor), and locally made liquors of a number of fruits, but drinking is moderate, and it is very bad form to get drunk. The people believe that inebriation is disrespectful to the returning souls, and when someone has drunk a cup too many, he is reprimanded and physically restrained if he becomes disorderly. After the meal or banquet is over, the restrained drinking and merrymaking go on until about 11 p.m. Sometime between November 1 and 3, when members of the household are not in the cemetery or preparing food or eating it, they exchange baskets of personal ofrenda, which are analogously and iiomologously the same as the ofrenda to the returning souls of the dead. Symbolically, the personal ofrenda is a reaffirmation that the living and the dead are part of a single universe of existence that cannot be categorically dichotomized, and that the social structure of the living also obtains among the dead. In the conduct of social relations, the personal ofrenda is both an act of atonement and a rite of intensification: one justifies or explains, and asks for forgiveness for, lack of cooperation, lack of ayuda (institutionalized religious, social, or economic assistance), breaches of etiquette, and all sorts of social and religious slights 157

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that have occurred during the year in the course of interaction with one's kinsmen, compadres, and friends. (The social, religious, and economic implications of this and related aspects of the Todos Santos cycle will be discussed in chapter 7.) A brief description of the personal ofrenda and its exchange will suffice at this point. The ofrenda basket (chiquihuite) contains several pieces of pan de muertos, three or four varieties of fruit, and perhaps a few of the confections that were prepared for the ofrenda of the dead. There are several special ofrendas, usually for particularly important kinsmen or compadres, which may include a bottle of liquor, zempoalxochitl or white flowers, and special delicacies. As a rule, the more important the recipient (or recipients) of the ofrenda is (are) to the person giving it, the larger and more elaborate the ofrenda is. There are both reciprocal and nonreciprocal ofrendas. In reciprocal ofrendas, the participant individuals or groups exchange baskets irrespective of precedence, and the ofrendas are equivalent in kind and content. In nonreciprocal ofrendas, invariably institutionalized in one degree or another, the honorer(s) takes the basket, traditionally covered with an embroidered cloth [servilleta), to the house of the honoree(s), and during the following week, someone from the house of the honoree(s) returns the empty basket and the servilleta. In both kinds of ofrendas, when the basket is handed over, there takes place a ceremonial verbal exchange, which articulates the atoning and intensifying functions of the occasion. The participants also entreat each other to work for better and smoother relationships in the coming year. From this viewpoint, the exchange of ofrendas is perhaps the most important occasion in the annual cycle that helps to knit and maintain the various compadrazgo and friendship networks in which the ordinary rural Tlaxcalan household participates. La Despedida, or Farewell to the Departing Souls The last event of November 2 begins at 11 p.m. or shortly after. This is La Despedida (in Spanish) or Tequixquimixtla (in Nahuatl), which means "the farewell"—that is, the farewell to the souls of the dead before they return to their other-worldly abodes. Rural Tlaxcalans believe that, after having lingered around the household, in the cemetery, and everywhere in the community since the late afternoon of October 31, the souls of the dead must return to where they came from. La Despedida, then, constitutes the last formal rite of the Todos Santos celebration. The formality and elaborateness of the rite, however, are declining, and even the Spanish and Nahuatl terms for it are no longer 158

THE CELEBRATION OF TODOS SANTOS

universally used in rural Tlaxcala. What will be described here is the traditional farewell ceremony as it was widely practiced probably until the late 1930s. La Despedida begins when the head of the household asks the assembled company to enter the room where the ofrenda has been arranged. Generally this is the largest room in the house, but it will be packed to capacity with thirty or forty people. Other kinsmen, especially children and young adults, may assemble in the courtyard. Four copalcaxitls are placed on the floor near the edges of the table, and four large candles, in black candlesticks, are placed in the midst of the items of the ofrenda. The head of the household, kneeling in front of the altar, puts coals in the copalcaxitls, waits for the pine resin to begin burning, and hands them to adult men and women to be placed at designated spots. He then lights the candles, and in the same fashion they are placed in candlesticks among the offerings. The positioning of the copalcaxitls and candles is very specific and probably is a pre-Hispanic survival. The table on which the ofrenda has been arranged is either square or rectangular, and it is placed against the base of the household altar. The household altar is usually set against the wall of the main room that most nearly faces north. (If the altar has been set against the wall facing in another direction, the Todos Santos celebration requires that a temporary altar be set up against the north-facing wall.) The most ritually important and revered pictures, images, and statues of the permanent altar are removed and set up either on the wall or on a higher table against which the ofrenda is arranged. Four lighted candles are placed at the centers of the sides of the ofrenda tables, a few inches in from the edge, surrounded by the different kinds of breads, sweets, and fruits, so that, if the table is square, they form an equilateral diamond pointing to the four cardinal points of the compass. If the ofrenda table is rectangular (in which case the longer side is always set against the altar), the candles are arranged in the same fashion, forming an elongated diamond with its closest points oriented north-south. In either case, the copalcaxitls are placed on the floor directly under the candles, that is, aligned in the north-south and east-west directions.' The officiating head of the household asks the assembled company to kneel, and kneeling himself next to the candle and copalcaxitl indicating the south, he faces north and leads a rosary in honor of the dead. If there has been a death in the nonresidential extended family since the previous celebration of Todos Santos, another rosary is said in honor of that departed soul, this time led by the deceased's nearest of kin. After a few minutes of silence, the head of the household begins the final invocation to the dead, which is part farewell and part entreaty. He 159

CHAPTER 5

begins by addressing all the departed souls, now returning whence they came, asking their forgiveness for the humble ofrenda, even though the offerings may have cost several thousand pesos, very likely straining the resources of the household. He assures them that the following year the household will do better and that each and every one of the dearly departed will be remembered to the best of the household's possibili­ ties. Then comes the entreaty, which is the private, household counter­ part of the public La Llorada in the cemetery. The head of the house­ hold leads the company in a series of supplications, in which all the different kinds of dead in general, and specific dead kin in particular, are asked for continued protection and support. The last adieu is spo­ ken by the head of the household in a high-pitched voice: "Benditas animas que nos han visitado, perdonennos nuestras culpas. Benditas animas que se han dignado estar con nosotros y compartir nuestro pobre alimento, amparennos y velen por nosotros. Benditas animas que ya estdn por dejarnos, no nos olviden y regresen a estar con nosotros el ano entrante." (Blessed souls who have visited us, forgive our offenses. Blessed souls who have deigned to be with us and to share our humble food, protect us and watch over us. Blessed souls who are about to leave us, do not forget us and return to be with us in the coming year.) The officiant tries to time the invocation to conclude before the stroke of midnight, for exactly at that time, the people believe, the last de­ parting souls leave the house and the community, as suddenly and as mysteriously as they arrived. This is the end of La Despedida; people are then no longer constrained by the presence of dead souls, and the gathering often degenerates into a drinking bout.

FROM NOVEMBER 3 τ ο THE OCTAVA

The exchange of personal ofrendas has been going on since the evening of November 1, but it reaches its peak on November 3. From midmorning until early evening, the community is bursting with activity, and the comings and goings of kinsmen, compadres, and friends ex­ changing ofrendas can be seen everywhere. The handing over of the basket, together with the verbal exchanges, seldom takes more than ten minutes, for each household has many such exchanges to undertake, including some with compadres and friends in other communities that may take an hour or more to reach (although these may not take place until the following day). By 9 p.m. most of the activity ceases, as the people want to retire early after all the exertions of the preceding days. Kinsmen visiting from the city usually leave in the late afternoon, taking with them the biggest ofrendas of pan de muertos. The farewells 100

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are often tearful, with the local residents pleading with the visitors not to forget their native community and to return as often as possible, and the latter assuring the former that they will never forget where they came from. Weekly and biweekly migrant laborers also begin to return to the city in the late afternoon, though most depart very early the next morning, unless November 4 falls on a Saturday or Sunday. Factories and business companies in which rural Tlaxcalans work outside the valley close down only on November 1 and 2; labor migrants who take off extra days do so at their own cost. On November 4 and 5, the ofrendas to the dead are dismantled and disposed of. Most households prefer to do this on the fourth, because the sooner they do it, the more offerings they will be able to consume. The process of dismantling the ofrenda reveals a number of facets of the Todos Santos celebration and its underlying ideology, and it exemplifies some of the changes that the complex has been undergoing since the early 1920s. As of 1920, the steps in the dismantling process, which had remained the same during the preceding two or three decades, were these (though they were not performed in this order): (1) Of all the many edible items in the ofrenda, only the pan de muertos could be consumed. The consistency of the bread is such that it can still be eaten two weeks after it is baked. One loaf of bread, however, was stored away and used throughout the year for two purposes: to rub the temples of children when they became ill or had fever; and to protect infants against being sucked by the tlahuelpuchi, by wrapping a morsel of it with a cloth and putting it next to the crib or straw mat where the infant slept. (2) All the other edible items—the other kinds of breads, and the confections, sweets, delicacies, special dishes, and liquor—could not be consumed. Together with the decorative flowers, the liquid offerings, and the cigarettes, they were buried next to the temazcal in a hole dug by the head of the household. (3) The less durable decorations, such as papier-mache, paper rosettes, paper tablecloths, and so on, were burned in the hearth by the wife of the head of the household. (4) Containers (such as plates, pots, bowls, platters, and pitchers), and the candlesticks, copalcaxitls, and other durable items, such as straw mats and cotton tablecloths, napkins, and blankets, were carefully washed or cleaned by the women of the household and stored away. These items could be used only for the ofrenda to the dead on Todos Santos. (5) Items of clothing and personal offerings, such as shirts, pants, sa161

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rapes (woolen blankets), tiltnas (woolen capes), cotones (poncho-like woolen garments), shoes, and so on, were displayed in the ofrenda for four consecutive years. Then they were burned in a special fire and the ashes were buried by the head of the household in a hole next to the temazcal. (6) The tools and implements used by the dead while they were alive were displayed in the ofrenda for four consecutive years. They could not be used during this period and were kept stored away in the intervals between displays. After the fourth year, they were returned to normal use. (7) The first-harvested ears of corn [primicias) displayed on a straw mat underneath the ofrenda table were put in a sack and stored near the hearth. On January 5, the ears were shelled and the kernels mixed with the seeds that were to be sown that year. Women were forbidden to touch the kernels of first corn and the seeds; the operation was carried out exclusively by the men of the household. By about 1940, the traditional disposition of the ofrenda had changed noticeably. Steps (1), (z), (5), (6), and (7) remained the same, but steps (3) and (4) did not. The less durable decorations were saved from year to year and used until they were no longer in good condition, and most households had abandoned the practice of reserving certain containers, candlesticks, blankets, and so on for the Todos Santos display but instead displayed items that had been in use throughout the year. Twenty years later or so (the ethonographic present of this monograph), only steps (5), (6), and (7) are still fully traditional. Step (1) changed in that most people no longer employ the pan de muertos in tending sick children or as a protection against bloodsucking witches; and with respect to step (z), most of the edible items of the ofrenda that have not spoiled usually are consumed by the members of the household. The dismantling of the ofrenda is not done in accordance with specific rites or ceremonies, but the proceedings do take place, even today, in an aura of solemnity. The dismantling is mostly a task of the women of the household, except that they cannot touch the first corn nor perform the burial of the offerings. The decorations are removed first; those that are still serviceable are carefully packed and stored, and the rest are burned in the hearth, using a special fire of pine and capulin branches. In the most traditional households, copal is burned and a prayer is said whenever something being discarded is thrown into the fire. Then the loaves of pan de muertos are removed and placed in a basket with the loaves left over after the personal ofrendas have been exchanged; the loaves that the household has received in exchange are 162

THE CELEBRATION OF TODOS SANTOS

put in the same basket, and household members may then have enough bread to last them for more than a week. Next the edible offerings are sorted out and placed in separate baskets. The spoiled edibles are buried immediately by the men, while the women watch, sometimes offerings prayers. In the most traditional households, the burial of spoiled edibles is again accompanied by the burning of copal, with the wife of the head of the household holding the copalcaxitl. The baskets of nonspoiled edibles constitute the main nourishment of the household for days to come. The tasks of washing, cleaning, and storing containers, clothing, and personal items are done by both women and men. Finally, the ears of first corn are gathered up by the head of the household, put in a sack and stored next to the permanent altar. While this is being done, the women assemble around the altar and say a few paternosters and Ave Marias in honor of the blessed souls, and then the head of the household entreats the souls to watch over the first corn and make the seed, with which it will be mixed, yield abundant crops. The last task is the rearrangement of the furniture used for the ofrenda and the replacement of the pictures, images, and statues on the permanent altar, if a temporary one had been set up for Todos Santos. Immediately after, the family gathers around the altar and head of the household leads in an invocation to the departed souls, assuring them that they did their best to honor them according to tradition, but that if in some way they failed, they will try to do better next year. Nothing further of importance takes place until November 9, the last day of the cycle, known as the Octava of Todos Santos.4 The main ritual event of that day is a mass in the local church dedicated to all the blessed souls in heaven and purgatory. The mass generally takes place between seven and nine o'clock in the morning, or whenever a priest can be secured, and it is well attended. As a counterpart of this public rite, there is a household rite, which usually takes place between eight and ten o'clock in the evening. The family members congregate in front of the altar and the head of the household leads them in a rosary. Then his wife lights a copalcaxitl and places it at the foot of the altar. A final invocation is delivered by the head of the household. As he and the others kneel on the floor, he fixes his eyes on the picture or statue of the blessed souls in purgatory and addresses all the blessed souls in heaven and purgatory, to the effect that "we have done our duty, we have done it to the best of our abilities and possibilities, and now it is up to you to protect us and to guide us during the coming year." The company rises and immediately afterward is served a repast of enchiladas, tamales, and other traditional delicacies. This terminates the Todos Santos cycle. 163

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Throughout the days of Todos Santos, the community seems to abide by patterns of behavior that emphasize an unusual degree of cooperation, smoothness, and amity in interpersonal relationships. It is one of three periods of heightened awareness about being on the best of terms with one's kinsmen, compadres, and friends, the other two being the Christmas cycle (December 16 to January 6) and the Holy Week cycle (Palm Sunday until the Sunday after Easter). Sociologically, these periods can be described as times of intensification of the conduct of normal interpersonal relationships—idealizations, so to speak, that cannot possibly be sustained throughout the year. The motives underlying the periods differ; in the case of Todos Santos, it is respect for the dead and their collective propitiation for the communal good. The conscious effort on the part of the great majority of the people to be on their best behavior with all those with whom they interact is striking: friends become friendlier, enemies try to become reconciled, and everyone is helpful and accommodating. The day after the Octava of Todos Santos, this kind of sacralized behavior comes to an end, and the community settles back into its usual round of gossip, intrigue, jealousy, and occasional nastiness that characterize everyday life in rural Tlaxcala.

CEREMONIES DURING THE REST OF THE YEAR

The main day devoted specifically to the memory of the souls in purgatory is January 5. In rural Tlaxcala, the day is marked by masses in the local church, sponsored by the mayordomias of the cult of the dead, and private celebrations both in church and in front of the household altar. Considerable numbers of people attend the masses in church, but the majority go to the church to worship in front of the picture or image of the souls in purgatory, which is generally found at one of the side altars. The worshippers pray and commend themselves and their families to the honored souls; some bring flowers. The household rite is regarded as the most important one. Late in the evening, the members of the household gather around the family altar, which has been decorated with red gladioli, red carnations, and other bright-colored flowers available at that time of the year. This is a rite essentially for adults; if any of the children are present, they play only a passive role. The head of the household, or an elder male member, lights a copalcaxitl and places it at the foot of the altar. The officiant leads three rosaries for the well-being of the souls in purgatory, at the end of which he commends them to the creator and asks him to shorten their sojourn in purgatory and admit them into his heavenly kingdom as quickly as possible. This ends the first part of the rite. 164

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The second part of the rite involves a mnemonic manipulation of a cross. In rural Tlaxcala, a dead person is always buried with the benefit of a sponsoring couple, the padrinos de la cruz de entierro (see chapter 4), whose main duty is to erect a cross on the grave of the deceased nine days after the burial. It is a measure of the importance of the cult of the dead that the ensuing compadrazgo relationship is one of the two most important ritual kinship relationships (the other one stemming from marriage) among the thirty-five or more compadrazgo types present in the region (Nutini 1984:117). The cross remains on the tomb for four years, and it is then ritually removed by the padrinos and handed over to the parents or closest kinsmen of the deceased. Burial crosses are usually made of hardwoods, but after four years of exposure in the cemetery they are weather-beaten and disfigured. Either the cross is burnt and the ashes buried next to the temezcal, or it is kept in the house, often displayed on the household altar. The typical rural Tlaxcalan household has three or four of these burial crosses: one of a child and two or three of adults. The people try to have at least one cross that is from the grave of an adult who, while alive, did not behave well or at least was not a model individual, and whom they therefore assume went to purgatory. Most households bring out the burial crosses only for Todos Santos and the rite of January 5. Following the invocation on behalf of the souls in purgatory, the officiant picks up the copalcaxitl and walks around the room incensing the walls. He stops in front of the altar and raises the copalcaxitl three times so that the smoke engulfs the area where the burial cross of the soul in purgatory is (placed there the day before, if it has not been there throughout the year). He then picks up the burial cross, kisses it at the intersection of the two arms, passes it around for all the adults present to kiss at the same place, and returns it to its place on the altar. Standing squarely in front of the altar, the officiant begins a response-like supplication to the burial-cross soul in particular, and to the souls in purgatory in general. He asks them that the souls in purgatory help the members of the household to lead upright and honorable lives, so that when death comes, they will die peacefully, surrounded by those they love and care for, and go directly to heaven. The assembled company echoes in chorus the officiant's entreaties. The supplication takes on the cadence of litanies—OFFICIANT: "YOU who are in purgatory [addressing the burial-cross soul] and know of God's punishment, do not permit that the same will happen to us." ASSEMBLED COMPANY: "Yes, Juanito [invoking the name of the burial-cross soul in the diminutive], save us from this punishment." Or—OFFICIANT: "Oh, souls in pain [addressing all the souls in purgatory], help us to lead upright and use165

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ful lives, and at the hour of death protect us and guide us." ASSEMBLED COMPANY: "Blessed souls in purgatory, help us and protect us." After several minutes of these invocations, the officiant stops and again picks up the burial cross, and a new round of kissing it ensues, this time at the foot of the cross. The officiant returns the cross to its place on the altar and leads the company in a paternoster, ending the rite. A ceremonial meal is eaten by the family immediately afterward, consisting of a fish dish and salad, the foods traditionally associated with death in rural Tlaxcala. December 16 is the day dedicated in rural Tlaxcala to all the dead, especially those whose souls are in heaven. This appears to be an exclusively local custom, not observed in other regions of Mexico. Although it is not necessarily a happy day, neither is it gloomy or sad. The cult of the dead on this occasion is concerned not with the afterlife but with this world—with the safeguarding of property and with good health in particular, and more generally with life as against death, with renewal as against termination. This is clearly indicated by the fact that December 16 is also the beginning of the posadas, a series of nine religious celebrations reenacting the wanderings of the Holy Family, which initiates the celebration of the Christmas season in Mexican Catholicism. In this context, the souls belong to the supernatural group associated with Christmas: the child Jesus, the Virgin Mary, Saint Joseph, Saint Joachim, and Saint Anne, and, as a separate supernatural compound in folk Catholicism, the extended Holy Family (Sagrada Familia) composed of those personages. Moreover, the child Jesus and the blessed souls share one specific supernatural attribute. In this monolatrous practice of Catholicism, Saint Jude is the patron saint of lost objects. In the folk Catholicism of rural Tlaxcala, the child Jesus and the blessed souls are also regarded as patrons of lost objects, although the blessed souls are considered to be more efficacious in this matter. This attribute common to the child Jesus and the blessed souls, and the association between the two concerning life and renewal, are presumably indicative of some structural confluence that has been lost in the practice of both orthodox and folk Catholicism. The worship and propitiation of the blessed souls on December 16 is in effect a part of the first posada. In urban Mexico, the posadas are a time for parties and merrymaking, while in rural Tlaxcala, and probably in all of Indian Mexico, the posadas are primarily religious celebrations, with the merrymaking confined mainly to the children. Most rural Tlaxcalan communities celebrate the Christmas cycle, December 16 to January 6, with great elaboration, and, as is the case with all the important celebrations in the yearly cycle, it has both public and private 166

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components. The public celebration involves several mayordomias in a number of functions, the most important of which are the setting up and decorating of a creche in the local church. The household celebration of Christmas also includes the setting up of a creche or some other arrangement, in front of the household altar. Early in the evening of December 16, the household altar is decorated with white flowers (gladioli, carnations, baby's breath, and other seasonal flowers), and the creche or other decorations are set up with a simple ceremony. The people gather around the decorated area, one of the women leads the assembled company in a few paternosters and Ave Marias, the children sing, and the ceremony comes to an end. The children are given candy, cookies, and other treats. At about eleven o'clock, the children go to bed, and the adults gather in front of the altar for the rite of propitiation of the blessed souls. It is also rather common for the first posada to be a cooperative enterprise, in which the households of the paraje band together, and an elaborate creche is set up in one of the households. The people of the paraje bring offerings and food and treats for the children, and something of a secular posada ensues. By midnight or so, the people return to their own houses for the rite of propitiation of the blessed souls, which is always conducted in each household separately. In this rite, two lighted candles are placed on the family altar, and the wife of the head of the household, or any other elderly woman, leads the assembled company in three paternosters and three credos (the Nicene or Apostles' Creed). She then invokes the blessed souls in a short supplication for the health of all the members of the household. The officiant terminates the rite by entreating the blessed souls to protect the property of the household and not let any of its members lose anything. The people are in a light mood, and they immediately proceed to consume a ceremonial meal consisting of any of a number of festive foods customary in rural Tlaxcala: tamales filled with beef or poultry, mole de huajolote, mole prieto, barbacoa en mixiote (barbecued beef or poultry in agave paper), and other delicacies. Sometimes, on the following morning, the head of the household and his wife take a bunch of white flowers to the church and place it at the foot of the picture or image of the blessed souls in purgatory (since there are no pictorial representations of all the blessed souls). The propitiation of the blessed souls on December 16 is the only occasion in the cult of the dead when women officiate, and one of only three such occasions in the entire complex of ritual and ceremonial cycles in rural Tlaxcala, which may easily include more than two hundred institutionalized rites and cere167

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monies. The people explain this by saying that women are inherently unluckier than men and not as good officiants as men are. Two other points need to be mentioned. First, the fertility attribute of the blessed souls—that is, their power to intercede on behalf of good crops—is not universal in rural Tlaxcala. I have encountered it in six communities, and it is probably present in no more than ζ 5 to 30 percent of all rural Tlaxcalan communities, though it may have been more widespread at the turn of the century. Second, as in the case of the cult of the souls in purgatory, there are a number of noninstitutionalized occasions throughout the year when household members gather in front of the altar in order to invoke the blessed souls for the health of a sick adult, the recovery of a lost object, or the safeguarding of the crops against theft. The form and content of the rites are essentially the same as those for the souls in purgatory, except that they are simpler and lighter in tone.

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·6· OFFERINGS TO THE DEAD AND THE HOUSEHOLD ALTAR

This chapter presents a detailed description of the offerings to the dead included in the Todos Santos ofrendas, and their incidence and provenance, and it concludes with a description and brief analysis of the household altar and the Catholic supernatural pantheon of rural Tlaxcalans. The emphasis in the discussion of the ofrenda so far has been essentially on the syntagmatic unfolding of the events in which it is involved and its ritual and to some extent its sociological implications. Here one focus is on its physical constituents, the material relationships of its component parts, and the significance that the people attach to the principal elements. Another focus, both here and in the following chapter, is on the ofrendas as expressive, symbolic creations. The aesthetic qualities of the ofrenda, which is probably the most important expressive domain in rural Tlaxcalan culture and often contains striking examples of folk art, may be judged by the companion work to the present volume (Schorr and Nutini, forthcoming).

CATEGORIES AND DISTRIBUTIONS OF ITEMS IN THE OFRENDA

Rural Tlaxcalans exhibit a good deal of ingenuity, culinary ability, and aesthetic sense in making and arranging the ofrendas. Most offerings are still homemade or grown locally, but since the turn of the century an increasing number have been bought in the market. There is considerable variation among both households and communities with respect to the offerings, decorations, and accessories utilized in the ofrenda, but at least two dozen items are universally employed in rural Tlaxcala. There are also offerings that are associated with particular communities (such as hojaldras from Santa Ana Chiautempan and San Juan Totolac, candlesticks from Santa Isabel Xiloxoxtla and Atlacpa, and candied fruits and preserves from Santa Catarina Ayometla and Santa Ines Zacatelco), but which are also bought by households of other communities. It would be virtually impossible to give a complete account of all the elements of the ofrenda in rural Tlaxcala, but the following description includes all the important and most widely used offerings and accessories. The items in the ofrenda can be classified as (A) breads and similar 169

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confections, (B) sweet confections and cookies, (C) candied fruits, preserves, and gelatins, (D) cooked dishes and sauces, (E) delicacies and treats antojitos ("little hankerings" or "whims"), (F) fruits and vegetables, (G) liquors and liquids, (H) flowers and plants, (I) clothing and utilitarian implements, (J) decorations and adornments, (K) cult paraphernalia and containers, (L) pictures, images, and statues, and (M) miscellaneous objects. Categories A-I are the offerings proper and are given in "rank" order, in the sense that the earlier they are in the list, the more common and symbolically salient they are. Categories J-M are, strictly speaking, not offerings but rather accessories. Each of the categories will now be described in detail. Varieties of Offerings (A) Breads and similar confections, (i) Pan de muertos or hojaldras, which in a few of the most traditional communities are still known by the Nahuatl name, tamamixtli. In addition to differences in the shape of the loaves (described in chapter 5), there are variations in the decorations, of which the most common are rosquillas (elliptical loaves with a double curvilinear fret at the base and contour lines from the summit to the mid-slopes), coronas (round rosquillas with a single contour line at the summit), and canastas (round basket-shaped loaves with handles, decorated with curvilinear motifs). Another type, common in the communities on the southwestern slopes of La Malintzi, is the hojaldra colorada, a loaf that has been colored purplish-red with ground amaranth flowers. There are significant community variations with respect to size, decoration, coloring, and consistency of the dough, although the ingredients—wheat flour, eggs, sugar, lard, yeast, and spices—are much the same everywhere. (2) Rosquetes, semisweet pretzel-like confections that, before being baked, are coated with a mixture of water, powdered sugar, coloring, and a binding element, which gives them a rather hard covering (usually white, purplish, or ochre). With some variations, the dough for this and the other confections in this category is essentially the same as those for the pan de muertos. (3) Tlacotonales, semisweet confections in the shape of a stylized heart. The upper part of the confection has a rectangular indentation and both sides are hatched. They are made in two or three sizes, never larger than four by six inches, and they are either white or purplish. A variant of these are the tlacotonales de sal, in which the dough and consistency are the same as that of regular bread. (4) Animas, or munecos de pan, semisweet confections of roughly diamond shape, which are representations of human males and females. They are always white and more or less of 170

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the same size as tlacotonales. In the representation of males, the diamond is stretched and distorted to resemble an elongated five-pointed star suggesting head, arms, and legs; the representation of females more nearly retains the shape of the diamond and has five triangular protuberances for the head, arms and legs. (5) Tortas, or pezunas de sal, round loaves made of salt dough, baked in the form of a doubledecker muffin, sometimes with a hole in the middle. They are of the natural color of bread and approximately five inches in diameter and two inches high. (6) Lisos, two-layer salt-dough confections, the bottom layer being four to six inches in diameter and the top layer somewhat smaller. After they are baked, the layers are rubbed with powdered sugar and flour in order to give them a glassy, smooth, whitish look. (7) Cocoles, another semisweet diamond-shaped confection, of roughly the same size as animas but of more nearly perfect diamond and with rounded corners. They are colored brown, purple, or red, and sometimes they are filled with ground almonds. (8) Cuernos, salt-dough confections shaped like croissant rolls, ochre in color and made in lengths varying from five to ten inches. (9) Floreadas, semisweet confections shaped like flowers. The most typical shape is that of a rose, with eight perfectly rounded petals. Like lisos, they are given a whitish patina after baking. (B) Sweet confections and cookies. (1) Calaveras de azucar, skulls of crystallized sugar. These offerings are quite faithful representations of the human skull. They are made in many sizes, from two to six inches high, and with a great deal of variation in their decoration, from simple ones in the natural whitish color of glazed sugar to elaborate ones painted in garish purples, reds, greens, and blues. The painted decorations are also of glazed sugar, mixed with another ingredient to produce the desired color. Not infrequently, the name of the dead person being honored is inscribed on the forehead of the skull. (2) Gallitos de pepita, marzipan-like animal figurines made of a dough mixed with roasted, ground pumpkin seeds. The word gallitos literally means "little roosters," but it stands for several animal figurines made in this fashion—chickens, turkeys, ducks, rabbits, lambs, cows, pigs, donkeys, horses, and dogs. The figurines, ranging from one and a half to three and a half inches tall, are sometimes painted in gay colors, but homemade ones are usually of the natural color of the dough. (3) Dulces de azucar, hollow crystallized-sugar figurines filled with sweet water. They are of about the same size as gallitos and can also be made in the form of animals but are made as well in the shape of crosses, crowns, baskets, balls, boxes, boots, shoes, hats, hands, feet, hearts, and so on. Again like gallitos, they may be highly colored and decorated. (4) Ga171

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lletas de muertos, "cookies of the dead," made from a rolled dough almost as dark as a brownie. They are seldom more than three or four inches long or wide, and they may be in the shape of stylized animals or have geometric forms, usually squares or rectangles. (5) Galletas cuatas, "twin cookies," made of the same rolled dough as galletas de muerto but shaped to represent twin humans, fruits, vegetables, or animals. (C) Candied fruits, preserves, and gelatins. (1) Calabaza de homo, or tacha, baked ground pumpkin, usually placed on a china dish and decorated with pumpkin seeds. It may retain the yellowish tones of pumpkin, or an ingredient may be added to give it a purplish color. (2) Chacualole, pumpkin that has been baked and then cut in slices one and a half to two and a half inches thick and placed on a china dish. (3) Dulces cubiertos, fruit jams, most often made of tejocotes (yellow haws), capulin, pears, guavas, figs, and quinces. They are usually prepared well in advance of Todos Santos and are offered in earthenware bowls. (4) Frutas confitadas, candied fruits. The fruits most commonly used are oranges, lemons, limes, figs, plums, pears, pineapples, and peaches. They are prepared in season, candied either in slices or (except for pineapples) whole. (5) Guayabates or ates, hard jelly pastes made of a combination of fruits, such as guavas, quinces, pears, tojocotes, limes, etc. (Ate means "paste," and guayabate, "guava paste.") The pastes are formed into rectangles or mounds and placed on china dishes. (6) Gelatinas and flanes, gelatins and flans. The gelatins are made with a water or a milk base and in many different colors. Flans are essentially custards, that is, creme caramels. Both offerings are contained in cups or glasses. (7) Conservas, preserves, which include both canned fruits and compotes, fruits cooked in syrup. The most common canned fruits for Todos Santos are peaches, quinces, and plums, while the most common compotes are made of tejocotes and pears. These offerings are displayed in china bowls or large earthenware bowls. (8) Ponche, literally, "punch," but used to refer to a concoction made of corn or rice and spices, with a consistency in between that of a porridge and a gelatin. Additives are used in order to give the ponche a yellow, green, purple, or red tone. It is offered in individual earthenware containers or sometimes in china bowls. (D) Cooked dishes and sauces. (1) Mole de huafolote, turkey or chicken in a thick chili sauce. (Beef is also prepared in this fashion but for other occasions, not for Todos Santos.) The turkey or chicken is boiled separately and then added to a large pot of mole sauce, made of bitter chocolate, spices, at least five varieties of chili peppers, and sometimes almonds or other nuts (with variations from one community to 172

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another). 1 This offering is displayed in a large earthenware pot with handles (cazuela), earthenware bowls {cajetes), or china bowls with individual pieces of turkey or chicken. (2) Mole de pipian, turkey or chicken in a green or red sauce. Pipian verde (green) is made with fresh chili peppers, and pipian Colorado (red) is made with dried chili peppers; in both kinds, sesame seeds and several herbs are the main ingredients of the sauce. Unlike mole de huajolote, the turkey or chicken is cooked together with the pipidn sauce, but the display of this dish is the same. (3) Mole prieto, chunks of pork cooked in a thick, dark sauce made of ground corn (nixtamal tnartajado), sesame seeds, eight varieties of chili peppers, and spices. This dish is always offered in individual earthenware bowls invariably containing a chunk of pork. The use of mole prieto as an offering to the dead, and on a number of ritual and social occasions throughout the year, is localized in the four or five municipios on the central-western slopes of La Malintzi. (4) Pescado con torta de habas, fried fish with broad-bean patties. The broad-bean patties are very much like potato pancakes in size and texture. This dish is served throughout the Tlaxcalan region during Holy Week, but in several municipios it is also used as an offering on Todos Santos. The fish and patties are individually offered in china dishes. (5) Chicharron en salsa verde, pork crackles in a green chili-pepper sauce. The pork crackles are cooked with the sauce and displayed in individual earthenware bowls. This dish is offered to the dead in only a few communities on the southern part of the western slopes of La Malintzi. (E) Delicacies and treats. (1) Tlatlapas, made of rolled corn dough filled with refried beans. This antojito is made in the shape of an elongated ellipse five to seven inches long. Several of them are offered individually or on a flat china dish. (2.) Tamales tontos, cornmeal dough without any filling, wrapped in corn husks. The name means "foolish tamales," connoting the disappointment people experience upon realizing that the treat does not have the filling with which tamales are usually prepared. Many of these tamales are offered individually or on a china dish. (3) Tamales rellenos, steamed cornmeal dough with fillings, wrapped in corn husks. The most common fillings are ground beef, small pieces of chicken or pork, refried beans, and thick mole. Many of these tamales are offered individually or in an earthenware bowl with handles. (4) Enchiladas, large corn tortillas covered with red chili sauce. Sometimes chopped onions are added to enchiladas for human consumption, but never in the case of those offered to the dead. The offering consists of a stack of fifteen to twenty enchiladas on a china dish. (5) Pellizcadas, round cakes of cornmeal covered with green chili sauce. The cakes are four to five inches in diameter, with the thickness 173

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of two or three tortillas and with raised borders, resembling a flat volau-vent. They are displayed on a china dish. (6) Cbalupas, small fried corn tortillas smothered with green chili sauce and shredded beef and/ or cheese, offered on a flat earthenware dish. (7) Gorditas, corn dough in the shape of a tortilla folded in the middle and filled with beef, chicken, turkey, or pork. This offering is displayed on an earthenware dish. (8) Memelas, corn tortillas two or three times thicker than regular tortillas and made in an elongated, elliptical shape six to eight inches long. They usually accompany the consumption of mole prieto; as offerings, they are placed next to or on top of the bowls of this cooked dish. (F) Fruits and vegetables. (1) Oranges and mandarins. They come in several sizes and are either green or yellow. (2) Bananas and plantains. Yellow and purplish-colored bananas are usually offered in bunches, while plantains (a much less common offering) are offered individually. (3) Sugar cane. The cane is cleaned and polished and cut into pieces ten to twelve inches long, which are offered individually or in groups of five or six pieces. (4) Lemons and limes, offered in an earthenware bowl. (5) Pineapples. Usually one whole fruit occupies a prominent place in the ofrenda. (6) Chirimoyas and guanabanas, soursops. Two or three of these fruits are offered on a flat china dish. (8) Pears. A small basket is sometimes placed in an unobtrusive part of the ofrenda. (9) Watermelon. One small or medium-size fruit may be offered whole or cut in half. (10) Melons. (11) Jtcama, a slightly sweet watery tuber. Three or four of these vegetables are placed together in the ofrenda. (12) Nopalitos, the tender fleshy leaves of the prickly-pear cactus. The leaves are stripped of their thorns and four or five of them are displayed in the shape of a fan. (13) Camotes, sweet potatoes. Two or three tubers may be displayed unobtrusively. (14) Potatoes. Two or three may also be offered. (15) Beans. A small earthenware bowl of beans is occasionally offered. (G) Liquors and liquids. (1) Water. A bottle of potable water, often from the household well, is placed near the altar. (2) Blessed water. A small jar of blessed water with a lid is placed on the altar. Most households use water that has been blessed by a priest, but a considerable number of people bring blessed water back with them from places of pilgrimage, such as Santa Maria Ocotlan or San Miguel del Milagro (in the state of Tlaxcala), that they have visited earlier in the year or especially for this purpose. (3) Rain water. A bottle of rain water is collected toward the end of the rainy season (late September or early October). (4) Milk, displayed in glasses or a half-full glass pitcher. (5) Pulque, in the form of agua miel, the agave juice as it is just beginning to ferment. 174

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A jar of one or two liters is included among the offerings. By the time the ofrenda is dismantled, the juice will have been transformed into hard pulque. (6) Aguardiente de cana, distilled sugar-cane liquor, bought in one-liter bottles but offered in smaller bottles or glasses. (7) Commercially bottled liquor. The most common types offered are tequila, mescal (a special kind of tequila), and brandy. Never more than one bottle is displayed. (8) Homemade liquors, usually made from capulin, tejocotes, or pears. They are offered in small glass pitchers. (9) Honey. A small jarrito (drinking mug) of honey is occasionally offered. (H) Flowers and plants. (1) Zempoalxochitl, flower of the dead (flor de muertos), the marigold. This flower comes in single, double, and triple types, and in several shades of orange, yellow, and ochre. There are subtle uses of the various shades of zempoalxochitl, and traditional households faithfully adhere to them. It is by far the most important flower in the decoration of the ofrenda and the family altar, (z) Amaranth. At least in the Tlaxcala-Pueblan valley, the earlier Nahuatl and Spanish words for amaranth (huauhtli and bledos) are no longer in use; instead, the two kinds of amaranth used as flowers are called moco de pavo (turkey's crest) and pata de lean (lion's paw), which may be identified respectively as Amaranthus hypochondriasis and Chenopodium nuttaliae. The flowers of moco de pavo are used in arrangements and for coloring, but the flowers of pata de leon are used exclusively in arrangements. Until approximately a generation ago, these flowers were a universal decoration in the celebration of Todos Santos, but now they are falling into disuse. (3) Nube, baby's breath {Gypsophila spp.). A bunch of these flowers is reminiscent of a fluffy white cloud (the Spanish name means "cloud"). Bunches of them are offered in earthenware pots. (4) Gladioli. White, pink, and red gladioli are offered, always in a glass vase. (5) Carnations. Many colors of these flowers are offered, but the most praised are red. They may be displayed in vases, but more often carnations without stems are used for decorating the ofrenda altar or framing another special offering. (6) Chrysanthemums. This is an expensive flower, so only three or four are likely to be included in the ofrenda, and then only in the fancier ones. (7) Gardenias. This flower comes primarily from Fortin, in the state of Veracruz. On October 30 and 31, many flower vendors from Fortin take the midnight train from there to the city of Apizaco in Tlaxcala where they sell their gardenias in one or two dozen arranged in twelve-to-fifteen-inch sections of the trunk of a banana tree. They are prominently displayed in the ofrenda in the same containers. (8) Flores silvestres, wildflowers. Many wildflowers are to be found on the slopes of La Malintzi volcano throughout the year. Perhaps as many as ten varieties, mostly yellow, white, 175

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and purple, are included in the ofrenda, displayed in earthenware containers. Early on the morning of October 31, two or three members of the household are commissioned to gather the wildflowers on the midslopes of the volcano. However, this custom is dying out. (9) Palm trees and fronds. Several species of palm are used. It is fairly common to include in the ofrenda a small palm tree, placed somewhere on the floor next to the altar, and perhaps a few fronds for decoration on or near the ofrenda table and altar. (10) Ferns. Both wild and cultivated ferns are used for decoration, generally on the periphery of the ofrenda and not infrequently to frame temporarily the family altar on the wall. (11) Ocoxochitl, pine flower. This is a parasitic shrub that grows on pine trees on La Malintzi. It is used for decorating the area of the room near the ofrenda or the ofrenda itself. It is usually gathered by the children of the household shortly before the ofrenda is set up. (12) Zoapatl, a plant that has strong stimulant and pain-deadening effects, used widely in traditional medicinal practices on the slopes of La Malintzi (See chapter 5 for other uses of both zoapatl and ocoxochitl.) For the ofrenda, a small bouquet of zoapatl leaves is displayed in an earthenware bowl, usually placed on the family altar. (All these flowers and plants may also be used for the decoration of the tombs in the cemetery, in addition to a number of others detailed below.) (I) Clothing and utilitarian implements. Unlike other items in the ofrenda, the items in this category memorialize specific individuals, and only adults, not children. Also, they are not an integral part of the ofrenda but are placed on its periphery, perhaps on a chair on one side of the ofrenda table or alongside the table rather than on it, thus suggesting a symbolic distinction between the individual dead and the collective dead. (1) Male clothing. Almost any garment worn by males, except underwear, may be displayed in the ofrenda. The most common items are straw and felt hats, cenidores (woolen belts of various widths), jackets [chamarras), trousers or calzones (tightly fitted white cotton trousers), cotorinas (sleeveless jackets), cotones, sarapes floreados (colorfully decorated woven blankets), and shoes and huaraches (sandals), (z) Female clothing. Again, almost any garment except underwear may be displayed. The most common offerings are fajas (woolen sashes of various widths), blouses or huipiles (blouse-like upper garments), skirts or titixtles (wraparound woolen skirts), zempantles (wraparound light skirts), rebozos (shawls), and shoes and huaraches. (3) Male implements of work—hoes, shovels, plowshares, acocotes (elongated gourds for collecting the agave juice with which to make pulque), hammers, saws, machetes, and so on. (4) Female implements of work—comales (flat earthenware pans for making tortillas), 176

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cazuelas, wooden spoons, sewing kits, scissors, and so on. (5) Craft implements used in weaving, pottery making, woodworking, stonecutting, the making of metates (stone mortars) petates, and so on. (6) Professional implements—devices associated with a person's profession or occupation, such as a violin or trumpet if he was a musician, a pen or a pencil if he was an officeworker, or a pair of scissors or a small washbasin if she was a midwife. (J) Decorations and adornments. (1) Manteles (tablecloths) and servilletas. Three main types of tablecloths and napkins are used: those made of cotton (occasionally heirlooms made of linen), usually bought in the market but then colorfully embroidered by hand; those made of multicolored tissue paper, intended exclusively for the ofrenda; and those made of tela de sarape (fine woolen cloth) or sometimes sarapes de saltillo (light, striped woolen blankets), specifically for use as tablecloths. (2) Petates, made (as in most of the Central Highlands) of tule (bulrush) and several kinds of palm fronds. Petates of several sizes are used in the ofrenda, occasionally even as tablecloths. (3) Papel picado, cutouts made of colored tissue paper or any other kind of fine paper. Rectangular cutouts are used to decorate the base of the ofrenda table or the base of the bracket or pedestal on the wall, often constituting the centerpiece of the family altar. (4) Papel recortado, ornaments made of posterboard paper and used to decorate or frame the images and saints on the wall. The color of the paper is always red or black, and the ornaments are usually in the form of knots, crosses, hearts, moons, suns, and the symbol for infinity. (5) Papier-mache ornaments. (6) Plant decorations, some of which have already been mentioned. Among the many items of this kind are fern and palm fronds, garlands and wreaths made of ocoxochitl and other vines, small branches of pine, pine cones, and bunches of eucalyptus seeds. (7) histories and panos, ribbons and pieces of woolen cloth, usually dark blue or red, used to decorate the entire room where the ofrenda is set up. When a temporary altar is erected for the ofrenda, the wall is covered with a large square or rectangular piece of black, dark blue, or red woolen cloth; fancier ofrendas may use dark blue or red velvet. (K) Cult paraphernalia and containers. (1) Candeleros, candlesticks. Among the several kinds of candlesticks used in the ofrenda, the most common are tall (12 to 14 inches), black-glazed single holders; short (5 to 7 inches), black-glazed single holders; and white-painted single and multiple holders. Sometimes the white-painted candlesticks are decorated in pink and light blue. (2) Copacaxitls, traditional earthenware incense burners. Like candlesticks, they are made of black-glazed earthenware, in the shape of a goblet, 6 to 8 inches tall. Copalcaxitls 177

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are used exclusively for burning copal, in many cases collected locally. (3) Incensarios, bronze censers in the shape of an inverted bell used ex­ clusively for burning incense purchased in the market. The burning of incense is a dying custom, and censers are regarded as heirlooms. (4) Velas and veladoras, candles and candles in glasses or in the shape of inverted truncated cones. These come in several sizes and in basically two colors, white and dark (the color of impure beeswax). Each type has specific social and symbolic denotations. The six most important types are: ceras blancas (white candles) of small (Vk-inch) and medium (iy 4 -inch) thickness and of various lengths from ι 2 to 18 inches; ceras oscuras (dark candles) of medium and large (two inches) thickness and of various lengths from 18 to 36 inches; veladoras de vaso (candles in a glass), ranging in size from 2 by 2½ inches to 3 by 5½ inches, and veladoras comunes (conical candles) of roughly the same sizes; vela­ doras de aceite (oil candles in glasses with a floating wick), 2 by 3 inches; and limbos (thick paraffin candles) of immaculate whiteness, 3 to 4 inches tall and 2½ to 3½ inches in diameter. (It should be noted that rural Tlaxcalans distinguish three categories of candles for the Todos Santos celebration: ceras que arden, candles to be lighted; ceras de ofrenda, candles to be displayed in the ofrenda; and ceras para el cementerio, candles to be taken to the cemetery. Candles of the three cat­ egories are counted separately and kept physically separated.) (5) PaItnatorias, small metal or ceramic candlesticks with a handle, often regarded as heirlooms. (6) Earthenware containers, of which the most common are: ollas (globular straight-necked jars) of many sizes, from tiny ones to large ones measuring 12 by 20 inches; cazuelas, ranging in size from tiny ones to enormous ones more than 3 feet in diameter at the top; cajetes, from 5 to 8 inches in diameter; molcajetes (serrated bowls), in size and appearance almost exactly like cajetes, except for the serrations on the inside (but not to be confused with the stone mor­ tars also known as molcajetes throughout the Central Highlands); jarros (slightly globular, straight-necked pitchers) of several sizes; jarritos (drinking mugs), 4 to 5 inches tall; and lebrillos (pans), 12 to 20 inches long. (7) Canastas, wicker baskets with a single handle over the top. They may be round or elongated, and they may be very small to as large as 18 by 30 inches. (8) Chiquihuites, round reed, palm, or wicker baskets without handles, from 6 by 12 inches to 18 by 36 inches. (9) Jarras, glass pitchers, various sizes. (10) Jtcaras, bottle-gourd bowls, various sizes. (L) Pictures, images, and statues. (1) Cuadros and estampas, framed pictures and prints. These show one or more of the many manifesta­ tions of Jesus Christ (and the Holy Trinity) 1 and of the Virgin Mary, 178

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and innumerable male and female saints, as well as a number of angels and archangels, who in the folk Catholicism of rural Tlaxcala (and most likely in the folk Catholicism of many other areas of the world) are the structural and functional equivalents of saints. The pictures are usually bought in the many stores that sell religious items in the cities of the Central Highlands. (Not infrequently, household altars display oils on canvas or wood of nineteenth-, eighteenth-, or even seventeenth-century provenance. Some of the oils are in excellent condition, but the majority of them are in various stages of decay. None of them are signed, for they are folk icons. Most of them have come from the city of Puebla, which since the late sixteenth century has been an important center of religious art production. Religious oils and polychrome statues were commissioned by the Indians or bought directly from several santeros [saint makers] in the city. The most common oils on household altars today are depictions of Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary, Saint Michael, Saint Anthony, and Saint Joseph. Oils are regarded as heirlooms, but they are not as highly prized as polychrome statues.) The prints, however, are generally bought at the several shrines and places of pilgrimage that rural Tlaxcalans visit throughout the year, and they are framed separately. The pantheon of rural Tlaxcalan folk religion consists of more than 160 Catholic supernaturals, among which the ones most closely associated with the ofrenda of Todos Santos are: La Virgen de Guadalupe (the Virgin of Guadalupe), La Virgen de Ocotlan (the Virgin of Ocotlan), El Santo Patron (the patron saint of the community), Nuestra Senora del Carmen (Our Lady of Carmel), Nuestra Senora de la Luz (Our Lady of Light), San Judas Tadeo (Saint Jude), San Miguel Arcdngel (Saint Michael the Archangel), San Isidro Labrador (Saint Isidore), San Lorenzo (Saint Lawrence), El Senor de Chalma (the Lord of Chalma), El Senor de Tepalcingo (the Lord of Tepalcingo), El Senor de Jalancingo (the Lord of Jalancingo), and El Senor de las Maravillas (the Lord of Marvels). The last four Christs are venerated in shrines within 200 miles of Tlaxcala, which, together with the Virgin of Guadalupe, constitute the five most important pilgrimages undertaken by rural Tlaxcalans outside the state. Within the state, the three most important shrines are those of Ocotlan, San Miguel del Milagro, and La Defensa (Our Lady of the Defense, or Covadonga). Ocotlan and San Miguel del Milagro are associated with Todos Santos, but not La Defensa, where the venerated virgin is essentially Spanish. Nuestra Senora del Carmen and La Virgen de la Luz have special significance for Todos Santos: the former is the patron saint of purgatory, and the latter is regarded as a rescuer or ransomer of souls from purgatory. (2) Cuadros de animas, framed pictures

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of dead souls. As has been pointed out (chapter 3), in the iconography of rural Tlaxcala only the blessed souls in purgatory are represented. Framed lithographs, laminas, and oils on canvas or wood of this representation are always part of the ofrenda: a cuadro de las animas del purgatorio (framed picture of the blessed souls in purgatory), as described in chapter 3, or a cuadro de anima sola (framed picture of a single soul, of the same type but depicting only one soul amidst the flames of purgatory). (The dichotomy between these two types appears to be a symbolic manifestation of the contrast between the private and public and the individual and collective cults of the dead.) (3) Statues, which are much less common on the family altar in general, and on the ofrenda altar in particular, than framed pictures. Only five statuary representations are found in the ofrenda: San Miguel Arcangel, San Judas Tadeo, San Antonio de Padua (Saint Anthony of Padua), San Jose y el Nino (Saint Joseph and the Child Jesus), and Las Animas del Purgatorio. Most of the statues since the early 1920s have been plaster images, but some people still have polychrome wooden sculptures, some of which go back to the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The latter are greatly valued heirlooms, the most precious possessions of the household. (4) Cruces de animas, blessed-souls crosses (also described in chapter 3). What was said about old polychrome sculptures applies to these crosses as well. They are usually dated, and most of them were individually commissioned for an ofrenda; this is clearly indicated in the legend that most of them bear. Some of them are more than three hundred years old; they were made between the first half of the seventeenth century and the third quarter of the nineteeth, when their fabrication suddenly stopped. (5) Cruces de parada and cruces de ataud, erection crosses and coffin crosses. These are generally made of wood or metal and measure from 18 by 30 inches to 2.4 by 40 inches. They are usually displayed against the wall where the ofrenda altar has been set up. Every infant, child, and adult in rural Tlaxcala must be buried with the benefit of both a coffin cross and an erection cross. The former is bought by the kinsman or compadre whose duty it is to buy the coffin, and it is set up on the grave at burial; the latter is bought by the ritual sponsor of the burial, and it is set up on the grave during the octava of the burial. For the ofrenda of Todos Santos, the coffin cross is displayed for one year only, while the erection cross is displayed for four consecutive years. (6) Cruces de parada y bendicion (erection and blessing crosses). There are many occasions in the economic cycle of rural Tlaxcala that require ritual-kinship sponsors: setting the foundations of a house, blessing a new house or building, inauguration of a newly cultivated field, blessing of a new well or storage bin, and so on. 180

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On each of the twenty-five or more such occasions, the ritual sponsors buy and decorate a small cross to be placed in, on, or next to the item being blessed or inaugurated. The crosses are usually made of wood, rather highly decorated, and measuring roughly nine by fifteen inches. By the time a household has been maintained for ten years, or so, it may have accumulated four or five of these crosses, which for Todos Santos are displayed either in the ofrenda itself or on the wall among the saints and images of the altar. (7) Retratos de difuntos, framed photographs of dead adults. Since the last decade of the nineteenth century, when photography became an attractive novelty to rural Tlaxcalans, the practice of displaying the framed photograph of a recently deceased kinsman became widespread. The photographs are generally small (five by seven inches), but big enlargements (12 by 20 inches) are occasionally displayed, usually against the altar or in the background of the ofrenda. (M) Miscellaneous objects. (1) Primicias, first ears of corn (or first fruits of other crops). In a sense, this is the most important item in the ofrenda, but strictly speaking it is not an offering to the dead but rather an entreaty and a reminder to the dead to watch over the crops and a token of thanksgiving for the crops already harvested. The best ears of corn are carefully selected and placed on a petate under the table of the ofrenda. There may be only a dozen or so ears, though most households prefer to display a big pile, which must include both white corn and socalled "blue" corn, a variety that is actually purplish in color. (2) White and blue tortillas. Two stacks, three to four inches tall, are displayed on china dishes in an unobtrusive place. (3) Cigarettes and matches. These and any other indulgences enjoyed by honored dead adults while they were alive are placed in the ofrenda by the members of the household who were particularly close to them. (4) Pre-Hispanic stone idols. Rural Tlaxcala, especially the western slopes of La Malintzi, has been rather densely populated since the Late Formative Period, and today there are many archaeological sites that can be easily spotted, even by nonexperts. 3 Many rural Tlaxcalan households have pre-Hispanic stone idols that people have found in small caves or when digging the foundations of a house or plowing the fields. Most of these idols are unmistakable representations of Tlaloc, the god of rain. Others are representations of Xipe Totec, the "flayed one"; Chalchiuhtlicue, the goddess of water; and Chicomecoatl, the goddess of sustenance. Traditional households display the idols rather prominently in front of the ofrenda, often surrounding the base of the idols with garlands of zempoalxochitl. Those acculturated households that happen to have preHispanic idols display them somewhat out of sight, either behind the 181

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first ears of corn or in the back of the ofrenda table, against the wall. (5) Pre-Hispanic clay figurines. These figurines, which are both anthropomorphic and zoomorphic, can often be found in rural Tlaxcala lying on the surface of the land, and occasionally they are turned up in considerable numbers when people plow new fields. Traditional households display a few clay figurines on a bowl in a prominent place in the ofrenda and also on the family altar. They are of various sizes, some complete and some broken, and their provenance covers many archaeological periods, probably extending back to the Early Formative. (6) Pre-Hispanic pottery—bowls, dishes, and other vessels, found in the same way as the idols and figurines. These artifacts are not displayed by themselves, but are instead used as containers for some of the most important offerings.4 Provenance and Importance of Offerings The ideology of the cult of the dead prescribes that the ofrenda must be composed of offerings made by members of the household. The people believe that homemade offerings are more efficacious than offerings bought in the market (or bartered or bought from a cottage industry) in achieving the propitiating, intensifying, and supplicating ends of the ofrenda. They insist that their own dead in particular, and the souls in heaven and purgatory in general, appreciate much more the offerings that the people make themselves, for the offerings that they may buy do not reflect the labor of love entailed by the former. The people therefore still go out of their way to include in the ofrenda as many homemade offerings as possible. At the same time, however, the people believe that this demand applies only to what can be made at home, not to the offerings that must of necessity be purchased. Thus, at one extreme there are many manufactured items that have never been made at home, which people have always bought in the market, while at the other extreme there is the pan de muertos: it can also be bought, but no household would dare display a loaf that had not been baked at home. Between these two extremes, there are many offerings that can either be bought or made at home, and the people's compliance with the ideological injunctions governing the cult of the dead varies according to the symbolic importance of the offering, the availability of basic ingredients for making it in the home, the time required to make it and the "cost-effectiveness" of doing so, and the stage in the transition from subsistence agriculture to labor migration. These variables can be summed up in terms of degree of traditionalism: the more traditional the houshold, the more homemade 182

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offerings are displayed in the ofrenda; the more acculturated the household, the more likely that the offerings will be bought. It is undoubtedly the symbolic importance of many of the foodstuff offerings that keep most ofrendas traditional despite strong secularizing trends. This is especially the case with such offerings as rosquetes, tlacotonales, animas, cocoles, cooked dishes, and antojitos. On the other hand, the length of time and the relatively high cost in making calaveras de azucar (one of the more important offerings after pan de muertos) outweigh the symbolic importance of making them at home, and probably since the turn of the century most rural Tlaxcalan households have bought them in the market. Since that time, furthermore, the introduction of an increasing number of purchased offerings, especially fruits and vegetables (oranges, sugar cane, pineapples, flowers, and so on) is an indicator of the transformation of rural Tlaxcala from an essentially agricultural mode of subsistence to more and more reliance on labor migration. In the recent past, a delicate balance between traditionalism and modernization has been maintained, which can be expressed statistically in the statement that about 70 percent of offerings are homemade. A similar, equally precarious balance also obtains along the entire spectrum of rural Tlaxcalan folk religion. Within the region, there are variations of some significance. In about ten communities, the ofrendas consist almost entirely of homemade offerings. These are the most traditional ofrendas, but they are not the most elaborate, ostentatious, or artistically outstanding. Rather, they are noted for their classic simplicity, probably suggesting the nature of the ofrenda at the turn of the century. These communities are located on the central and southern part of the western slopes of La Malintzi, and they represent the Indian extreme of the Indian-Mestizo continuum. The great majority of communities, especially those on the lower slopes of La Malintzi, fall in the middle range: still traditional but with a considerable proportion of offerings bought in the market. Finally, in the most acculturated communities, accounting for perhaps 15 percent of the total population, only a little more than half the offerings are of the traditional sorts. These communities are located in the central and southern regions of the Tlaxcalan part of the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley. It may be noted that as communities and individual households move toward the Mestizo end of the Indian-Mestizo continuum, the elaboration and expressive excellence of the ofrenda increases, but to the same degree the proportion of traditional elements decreases. When communities and individual households begin to approach the end of the continuum (that is, when the process of secularization has run its course, and there are hardly any significant cultural differences be183

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tween rural and urban environments), the elaboration and expressive excellence of the ofrenda abruptly diminish, and the ofrenda takes the reduced and simplified form that it has in the most unacculturated sector but largely without traditional offerings. This phenomenon is a good exemplification of the regional theory of modernization and secularization that has been discussed elsewhere (Nutini and Isaac 1974:431-444). At the level of the household, too, there are variations in the provenance and incidence of the offerings and in the elaboration of the ofrenda, and these variations are also conditioned by the variables discussed above. It should be emphasized that, in perhaps as many as half of all communities in rural Tlaxcala, one may find households occupying nearly every point along the entire range of the Indian-Mestizo continuum. This is another way of saying that the processes of modernization and secularization in rural Tlaxcala have not proceeded evenly. The degree of acculturation of the household is also related to the distribution of offerings among prescriptive, preferential, and optional types. A "prescriptive" offering (or accessory) is one required to be in the ofrenda, the implicit assumption being that without it the ofrenda would not be fully successful in achieving its manifest aims. A "preferential" offering is one that, although not required, appears in ofrendas with high frequency, indicating that it is regarded as enhancing the achievement of ritual and symbolic goals. An "optional" offering is one that is believed to have no necessary influence on the overall effect of the ofrenda and is thus displayed essentially for expressive reasons. Within each of these categories, there are certain kinds of choices. Prescriptive offerings are those that have been designated above as A-i, A-2, A-3, and A-4; B-i and B-z; C-i and C-z; D-i; E-i, E-z, and E-3; F-i, F-z, F-3, and F-11; G-i, G-z, G-3, and G-4; H-i, H-z, and H8; and I-i and I-z. Prescriptive accessories are J-1 and J-z; K-i, K-z, K3, K-4, K-6, and K-8; L-i and L-z; and M-i, M-z, and M-3. There are three observations to be made about these lists. First, the category of fruits and vegetables (F) is a good example of how the form of a ritualmaterial trait can remain traditional even while undergoing a radical change in content. The fruits and vegetables offered to the dead at the turn of the century were all locally grown (mostly pears, quinces, tejocotes, nopalitos, and avocados), but in the early 1930s they began to be replaced by tropical products (mostly oranges and mandarins, bananas and plantains, sugar cane, and jicamas), which by now have become the "traditional" and prescriptive offerings. Second, there is a degree of optionality in the prescriptive offerings. For example, mole de huajolote (D-i) may on occasion be replaced by mole prieto (D-3) without 184

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any adverse ritual or symbolic consequences, and households may use any of a number of earthenware containers (K-6), depending on the offerings to be displayed. Third, the prescriptive offerings can vary with the age and sex of the particular dead being honored. For example, gelatins and flans (C-6) are offered only to children, and different items of clothing are displayed for males (I-i) and females (I-2). The categories of preferential offerings are A-5 and A-6; B-3; C-4, C6, and C-7; D-2 and D-3; E-4, E-7, and E-8; F-4, F-5, F-6, F-7, F-12, andF-13; G-5,G-6, andG-7; H-3,H-4, H-5,H-6, H-7, andH-12.; and I-3 and I-4. Preferential accessories are J-3, J-4, and J-7; K-7 and K-9; L-3, L-4, L-5, and L-6; and M-4 and M-5. The more acculturated the household is, the more preferential offerings and accessories will be displayed in the ofrenda. The incidence of preferential offerings also depends to some degree on unforeseen events; for example, galletas cuatas (B-5) will be displayed when a member of the household finds a twin fruit or vegetable, or when twins have been born in the household since the previous Todos Santos—a practice complied with by all but the most acculturated households. The greatest degree of choice among preferential offerings is found in the categories of antojitos (E), fruits and vegetables (F), and flowers and plants (H), while the lowest degree of choice obtains in the categories of decorations and adornments (J) and cult paraphernalia and containers (K). Finally the optional offerings are A-7, A-8, and A-9; B-4 and B-5; C3, C-5, and C-8; D-4 and D-5; E-5 and E-6; F-8, F-9, F-10, F-14, and F-i 5; G-8 andG-9; H-9, H-io, and H-11; andI-5 and 1-6. J-5 andJ-6, K-5 and K-io, L-7, and M-6 are optional accessories. The relationship between the distribution of offerings and accessories among these types and the degree of acculturation of the household can be generalized as follows: Traditional households display all the prescriptive and a few of the preferential offerings and accessories; their ofrendas are likely to include about 60 percent of the items in the thirteen categories. Transitional households display all the prescriptive, most of the preferential, and many of the optional offerings and accessories; their ofrendas, the most elaborate in rural Tlaxcala, generally include about 75 percent of the items described above. Acculturated households display most of the prescriptive, some of the preferential, and some of the optional offerings and accessories, including overall less than 50 percent of the items. The reader should realize that these are rough estimates, accurate enough for the wider picture of the ofrenda in rural Tlaxcala as a whole. Regional differences and idiosyncratic variables complicate the picture. Suffice it to say that the ofrendas in rural Tlaxcala range from a very few that include virtually 100 185

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percent of all offerings and accessories, requiring two or three large tables with veritable mountains of items, to simple displays with no more than 30 percent of items. The average among all households in the region is roughly 60 percent, supporting the contention that this central aspect of the Todos Santos celebration remains quite traditional when compared with the ofrendas that were typical at the turn of the century. STRUCTURE AND CONTENT OF THE HOUSEHOLD ALTAR

The household altar is the hub of the ritual and ceremonial life of the family. Hardly a week goes by without the family's congregating before it for some religious or social event. To put it differently, the household altar, and the room that contains it, is the locus of the private, individual religion, as contrasted with the public, collective religion centered on the church and the mayordomia system. The majority of houses in rural Tlaxcala are of the compound type— that is, a quadrangular or rectangular structure with a single entrance and with all the rooms oriented toward a central courtyard. Single-construction houses, containing one or two rooms in a rectangular plan, generally evolve into compound houses over two generations or so, as a concomitant of the growth of the extended family (Nutini and Isaac 1974:305-307). Given the widespread incidence of patri-neolocal residence in rural Tlaxcala, the extended family goes through a rather well-defined developmental cycle, with the result that, at any given point in time, more than 3 5 percent of married couples, or nearly half of adult rural Tlaxcalans, live in extended-family households. All extended families inhabit compound houses, while about zo percent of nuclear families occupy compound houses and the rest live in singleconstruction houses. Single-construction houses become compound houses by the addition of a surrounding wall, and with this transformation they become "ancestral households" and thus the locus of the nonresidential extended family (see Nutini and Isaac 1974:343-345). Since in the great majority of cases the major ofrenda of the nonresidential extended family is set up in such an ancestral household (which is also where most of the ritual and ceremonial activity takes place throughout the year), the following descriptions will be limited to the rooms and altars of compound houses. The rooms and altars of singleconstruction houses are essentially similar, except that, for obvious reasons, they are not as big or as elaborate. The altar is almost invariably located in the main room of the com186

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pound house, generally the largest one. In the more affluent households, it is used exclusively as a receiving room and even acquires the semblance of a chapel. It is the most elaborately furnished room in the house, usually with a large table in the center and many wooden chairs set against the walls. In the poorer households, which is to say the majority, the room of the altar may also serve as a bedroom, but whenever an important religious or social event takes place, the beds and other bedroom furnishings are removed and the room is transformed into a chapel-like space. The room of the altar usually is located against the back wall and facing the entrance, or else it is the first room to the left of the entrance. The reasons for these locations may be that single-construction houses that grew into compound houses did so in a clockwise fashion, and the original single room was eventually transformed into the altar room; while in the case of houses originally built in compound form, the altar room was designed to face the entrance because of its "stately" effect and perhaps to replicate symbolically the position of the atrium in a church. The room of the altar is always rectangular, and the entrance is usually in the middle of one of the longer sides. Ideally, the altar should be located on the short wall to the right of the entrance, and if that wall is on the north side of the room, it is regarded as the most auspicious and classical position. Probably a third of rural Tlaxcalan households have the altar room oriented in that fashion. Probably another third of the households set up their altars on the wall facing the entrance or the wall to the left of the entrance, in order to have the altars oriented toward the north. In other words, having the altar oriented toward the north takes precedence over the shape of the room as a symbolic replica of the church. In the remaining one-third of households, a temporary altar is set up for the ofrenda so that it will be oriented toward the north. In those households where the permanent altar faces north, it also serves as the altar for the ofrenda, perhaps with the addition of floral decorations around the images of the saints and others most closely associated with Todos Santos. It is nevertheless important to give a detailed account of the household altar, beyond what has already been said about the ofrenda altar, for three reasons: first, in the majority of households the ofrenda is set up as an extension of the household altar; second, during Todos Santos the souls of the saints displayed on the household altar are especially worshipped and honored; and third, the household altar is a sacred domain which is the center of the private component of religion and the most important social rites of the family. 187

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The Sacred Precinct The basic configuration of the household altar is rather uniform. Essentially, it is a replica of the baroque retables that decorate at least two dozen rural and urban Tlaxcalan churches of the late seventeenth and the eighteenth centuries. The style of these retables is an elaborate and convoluted one known in Tlaxcala and Puebla as churriguera and elsewhere in Mexico as churrigueresco, of which it has been well said, "El arte barroco Ie tiene horror al vacio" (baroque art abhors a void). The altar may have three dozen or more pictures and statues, interspersed with several kinds of crosses and other objects of the cult of the dead, all in a symmetrical arrangement that leaves little doubt that the church retable was the model. The images are usually a melange of the old and the new: old oils on canvas, new lithographs, prints, laminas, old polychrome statues, new plaster statues, and not infrequently bronze statues. Two or three of the various kinds of crosses are always a permanent fixture of the altar, and if the household owns a cruz de animas, it occupies a place of honor in the ensemble. The same is true of whatever old oils on canvas and polychrome wooden statues the household may own. At the other extreme, a household altar may be as simple as five or six framed pictures on the wall over a plain narrow table, but this is not typical of the altars of ancestral households, which usually represent the accumulation of sacra over more than a generation. It should be clear by now that the term "altar" is not being used here merely in the sense of a table or raised platform where religious services are conducted. Rather, the term stands for a "sacred-precinct" complex, which constitutes the locus of household ritual and ceremony. The most important element of this complex is the retable, which is always distinct, permanent, and well delineated. The altar and the sacred precinct are neither so well delineated nor so permanent. The sacred precinct may be regarded as the entire room where the altar and retable are located, but this is not usually a permanent and exclusive arrangement. One could conceive of the room as a chapel when it is used exclusively for religious and social rites and ceremonies, and in that sense the sacred precinct is homologously and analogously equivalent to a church. In the majority of households, however, the room is also used as a bedroom, and in this case the sacredness of the precinct is a temporary function of the rites and ceremonies that take place there on certain occasions. In any event, the people consciously regard the sacred precinct as a space of a different kind, and they frequently mark off the area around the altar and retable, symbolically and physically separating it from the rest of the room. Most households accomplish this de188

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limitation in one of two ways: by placing a large table in front of the altar-retable, or by encircling the altar-retable with a ring of chairs placed three or four feet from the ensemble. Thus, when the room is being used as a bedroom, or in any other nonritual capacity, the perimeter of the large table or the space encircled by the chairs becomes the sacred precinct: it is always kept clean; children are not allowed to play there; and flowers, candles, and other offerings are placed within its confines. The altar itself is usually a rectangular wooden table, which is occasionally painted or varnished. It is three and a half to four feet high and fifteen to eighteen inches wide, its width being determined by the width of the retable. Again, the imitation of the altar and retable in church is evident. In some of the oldest houses, dating from the middle of the eighteenth to the middle of the nineteenth centuries, the altar is built into the wall, framed at the base by a niche eight to twelve inches deep. In such cases, the sacred precinct, indeed the entire room, really is a chapel. The altar-table does not have an officiating function. Rather, it is a depository for offerings and sacred objects not permanently part of the retable. Thus, the flowers and candles offered to the saints throughout the year are placed on the altar-table, and so are a number of sacred objects: small replicas of the large images of mayordomias, censers, prayer books, blessed objects, some of the various small crosses kept in the household, and so on. The retable is the most sacred component of the altar. It consists of framed pictures, a few statues, some crosses, and one or two consolas (consoles, or wide shelves) or repisas (bracket-shelves). There are basically two types of retables. The most common is essentially a rectangle of framed pictures affixed to the wall, usually surrounding a console or bracket-shelf for the statues. Its size varies but is proportional to the height of the wall. In the largest of these retables, which may comprise as many as forty pictures and statues, the rectangle may be as large as eight by twelve feet (many of the old houses have ceilings fifteen feet high or more). The second most common kind of retable is one set up in an arched niche in the thick masonry or adobe wall; it is eight to twelve inches wide and extends from the floor up to six inches or so from the ceiling. A masonry altar of the exact width of the niche rests against the inset wall. In the case of built-in altars, there is obviously no wooden table as part of the ensemble. The built-in altar coupled with the niche retable represents the ideal combination for the household altar in rural Tlaxcala, even though it is not present in most houses. Regardless of whether the retable contains a dozen or three dozen pictures and statues, their arrangement and position in the ensemble 189

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follows the same general pattern. First, there are always many more framed pictures than statues of Christs, Virgins, and saints; the proportion is roughly five to one. However, there is always at least one statue and there may be as many as six or seven. Cruces de animas are found in probably less than a third of all household altars. On the other hand, most households have numerous crosses of other kinds at hand, and practically every one has a wooden or metal crucifix displayed in the retable.5 The most elaborate retables have two consoles or bracketshelves, one above the other in the center of the retable. The lower console or bracket-shelf is larger than the higher one, and it is usually affixed to the wall about a foot above the altar-table, with the other two to two and half feet higher. The majority of retables have only one console or bracket-shelf, fastened to the wall two or three feet above the altar-table. The consoles or bracket-shelves are either rectangular or semicircular, and they are large enough to accommodate several statues, flower vases, and other adornments. The statues of Christ, the Virgin Mary, and the saints are almost invariably placed on the consoles or bracket-shelves, and in some of the most elaborate retables a statue is placed at either end of the built-in altar or table as well. The arrangement of the framed pictures on the wall also follows a definite pattern. To the right of an imaginary line dividing the retable into two equal halves are placed all the Virgins and Christs; to the left of the line are placed all the saints and crosses. The lower and more central is the position of the Christ, Virgin, or saint, the higher the importance of the supernatural and/or the devotion in which it is held by members of the household. Most households are very careful about the placement of pictures in the retable, and from it one can infer the particular devotions and general patterns of worship of the private religion of the people. The patron saint of the community, for example, occupies a place of honor on the lowest, central part of the retable, and not infrequently it is the most elegantly framed picture. Cruces de animas and statuary representations of the blessed souls in purgatory are placed on the consoles or bracket-shelves, while crucifixes and crosses generally occupy the upper-left corner on the side of the saints. The retable is usually clearly marked off within the sacred precinct. In the most traditional retables, the niche provides a frame for the pictures and statues, giving the total ensemble the form and feeling of a retable in church. In all other cases, the boundaries are given by the position of the pictures and crosses themselves. It is fairly common, however, for the retable to be demarcated by a four- or five-inch band of cherry-red or dark-blue velvet nailed or glued to the wall. There is a substantial degree of household and community variability 190

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in the structure and elaboration of the altar, especially with respect to the number and types of Catholic supernaturals represented in the retable. Data on this subject sufficiently detailed for an exacting analysis are not available, but a few generalizations may be made. First, the most elaborate household altars are found in communities in the central and southern parts of the western slopes of La Malintzi. Second, the least elaborate ones are found in the municipios of the valley proper, in the southern part of the state of Tlaxcala. Third, as in the case of the ofrenda and several other aspects of the folk Catholicism of rural Tlaxcala, there is significant variation as a function of degree of modernization and secularization. Finally, while the physical form and organization of the household altar are fairly constant, as are the general categories of Catholic supernaturals displayed, the particular Christs, Virgins, and saints within these categories that households select for their altars is determined primarily by the stage of development at which the household finds itself at a given point in time. As the household goes through the developmental cycle of the family, the devotions of its increasing number of members almost invariably result in a greater elaboration of the altar. Thus, the most elaborate household altars can be seen in the mature or terminal stage of development for a large family group. Incidence of Catholic Supernaturals A household altar that has been in existence for two or more generations has representations of Catholic supernaturals in six categories: patron saints; manifestations of Jesus Christ; manifestations of the Virgin Mary; male and female saints; pilgrimage Christs, Virgins, and saints; and souls in purgatory. A two-generation household may have forty or more of these representations. There is considerable variation in the selection, depending on idiosyncratic devotions and particular likes and dislikes, although some of the representations are virtually universal, and the two or three most knowledgeable individuals in a community are probably familiar with the entire pantheon, including more than 160 supernaturals. The supernaturals that are best known to the people at large and that are the objects of the most widespread devotions are the following, with (S) indicating those representations found in statuary as well as pictorial form (the former constituting, as already pointed out, no more than 2.0 percent of all representations): (1) Patron saints—El Santo Patron, the patron saint of the community; El Santo Patron del Barrio, the patron saint of the barrio; La Virgen de Guadalupe, the Virgin of Guadalupe, patron saint of Mexico 191

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(S); La Virgen de Ocotldn, the Virgin of Ocotlan, patron saint of Tlaxcala. All four of these supernaturals are required to be present on the household altar. The patron saints of the community and barrio may be any of the manifestations of Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary, but far more often they are saints. (z) Manifestations of Jesus Christ—El Sagrado Corazon de Jesus, the Sacred Heart of Jesus (S); Cristo Rey, Christ the King; El Dulce Nombre de Jesus, the Sweet Name of Jesus; La Preciosa Sangre de Cristo, the Precious Blood of Christ (S); El Senor del Convento, the Lord of the Convent; El Divino Salvador, the Divine Savior; El Divino Pastor, the Divine Shepherd (S); El Divino Redentor, the Divine Redeemer; El Divino Rostro, the Divine Shroud; La Ascension del Senor, the Ascension of Christ; La Santisima Trinidad, the Holy Trinity; La Sagrada Familia, the Holy Family. The retable usually displays six or seven of these representations; the Sacred Heart of Jesus is universally shown, and the Sweet Name of Jesus and the Holy Trinity are nearly as common. (3) Manifestations of the Virgin Mary—La Virgen del Carmen, Our Lady of Carmel (S); La Purisima Concepcion, the Immaculate Conception (S); La Virgen de la Soledad, Our Lady of Solitude; La Virgen de la Luz, Our Lady of Light; La Virgen de los Dolores, Our Lady of Sorrows; La Virgen de Lourdes, Our Lady of Lourdes (S); La Virgen de la Natividad, the Virgin of the Nativity; La Virgen de la Asuncion, the Virgin of the Assumption; La Virgen del Perpetuo Socorro, Our Lady of Perpetual Succor; La Virgen de la Candelaria, Our Lady of Candlemas; El Inmaculado Corazon de Maria, Our Lady of the Immaculate Heart (S); La Virgen del Rosario, Our Lady of the Rosary; Nuestra Senora de Fatima, Our Lady of Fatima; La Virgen de la Piedad, Our Lady of Piety. The first four of these are almost invariably displayed, and four or five others are displayed as well. Generally, the retable has more Virgins than Christs. (4) Male and female saints—San Miguel Arcangel, Saint Michael the Archangel (S); San Antonio de Padua, Saint Anthony of Padua (S); San Jose y el Nino, Saint Joseph and the Child [Jesus] (S); San Judas Tadeo, Saint Jude (S); San Isidro Labrador, Saint Isidore; San Lorenzo, Saint Lawrence; San Pedro, Saint Peter (S); San Pablo, Saint Paul; San Pedro y San Pablo, Saint Peter and Saint Paul; San Juan Evangelista, Saint John the Evangelist; San Juan Bautista, Saint John the Baptist; Santiago Apostol, Saint James the Apostle; San Martin de Porres, Saint Martin of Porres (S); San Francisco de Asis, Saint Francis of Assisi; San Felipe de Jesus, Saint Philip of Jesus; San Bernardino de Sena, Saint Bernardine of Siena; Santa Ana, Saint Anne; Santa Cecilia, Saint Cecilia; 192

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Santa Teresa del Nino Jesus, Saint Theresa of the Child Jesus (S); Santa Isabel, Saint Elizabeth; Santa Clara, Saint Claire; Santa Catalina, Saint Catherine. Saint Michael the Archangel and Saint Joseph and the Child are universal, and Saint Anthony of Padua, Saint Peter, and Saint Anne are very common. Almost always, there are three or four more representing the particular devotions of household members. Male saints by far outnumber female saints, but this imbalance is somewhat compensated for by the large number of manifestations of the Virgin Mary. (5) Pilgrimage Christs, Virgins, and saints. (Practically every rural Tlaxcalan community has several hermandades that organize pilgrimages to sanctuaries and basilicas where certain Catholic supernaturals are especially venerated, and the typical household participates in one of these pilgrimages at least once every three years. The representations in this category are the prints, lithographs, and statues that are brought back from the pilgrimages. Most of these places are within two hundred miles of Tlaxcala, but one, the Lord of the Lakes, is four hundred miles away, and another, the Christ of Esquipulas, is nine hundred miles away. The cult of the Virgin of Guadalupe and that of the Virgin of Ocotlan also involve pilgrimages, but these supernaturals have been classified as patron saints because of their preeminence in local folk Catholicism.)—El Seftor de Tepalcingo, the Lord of Tepalcingo; El Senor de Jalancingo; El Senor de Chalma; El Senor de Cuatlanapa; El Senor de las Maravillas, the Lord of Marvels; El Senor de los Lagos, the Lord of the Lakes; La Preciosa Sangre de Tejalpa, the Precious Blood of Tejalpa; El Cristo de Esquipulas, the Christ of Esquipulas; El Cristo de Tlacotepec; Nuestra Senora de los Remedios, Our Lady of Remedies; La Virgen de la Caridad, the Virgin of Charity; La Virgen de la Defensa, the Virgin of the Defense; La Virgen de Zapopan, the Virgin of Zapopan; La Purisima Concepcion de Puebla, the Immaculate Conception of Puebla (S); La Virgen de la Candelaria de Huauchinango, the Virgin of Candlemas of Huauchinango; San Sebastian de Aparicio, Saint Sebastian of Aparicio; San Miguel del Milagro, Saint Michael of the Miracle (S); San Francisco de Puebla, Saint Francis of Puebla; San Jose de Puebla, Saint Joseph of Puebla (S); San Pedro de Tlaltenango, Saint Peter of Tlaltenango; San Pablo de la Luz, Saint Paul of the Light; Santa Cecilia de Tecomatepec, Saint Cecilia of Tecomatepec; Santa Teresa del Carmen, Saint Theresa of Carmel; Santa Barbara de Yanhuitlan, Saint Barbara of Yanhuitlan. The typical household altar has between four and eight pictures or statues in this category. The Lords of Tepalcingo and Chalma are universal; the other most common of these representations are the Lord of Jalancingo, the Lord of the Marvels, the Lord of the Lakes, the Immaculate Conception 193

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of Puebla, Saint Sebastian of Aparicio, and Saint Michael of the Miracle. (6) Souls in purgatory—las animas del purgatorio, souls in purgatory; cinima sola, one soul in purgatory; cruces de animas, blessed-soul crosses (S); las animas benditas, blessed souls in heaven (S); las animas de la buena muerte, souls of proper dying (see chapter 3); las animas benditas de todos santos, blessed souls of all saints; las animas de la velacion nocturna, blessed souls of the nocturnal watch or wake (depicting a kneeling man or woman next to the souls wailing in the flames of purgatory, or souls in purgatory hovering above the bed of a dying man or woman, representing a soul of proper dying). Every household altar has at least one representation in this category and many have two or three. It should be noted that they are all shown as souls in purgatory, even though they may represent souls in heaven or souls of saints. Regardless of the form of representation, the people are seldom confused. Other representations, found less often than the above, are the following ("medium frequency" means they were observed on household altars in at least twenty communities, and "low frequency" that they were observed in at least ten but fewer than twenty): (I) Patron saints—Medium frequency: El Santo Patron de la Seccion, the patron saint of the section ("sections" are subdivisions into which many municipios are divided). Low frequency: El Santo Patron del Paraje, the patron saint of the paraje. (II) Manifestations of Jesus Christ—Medium frequency: El Nino de Dios, the Child Jesus; El Santo Entierro, the Holy Burial [of Christ]; El Santo Nino de Atocha, the Holy Child of Atocha; La Natividad de Jesus, the Nativity of Jesus; Corpus Christi. Low frequency: El Cristo del Monte, the Christ of the Mountain; La Renovacion del Santisimo Sacramento, the Renewal of the Holy Sacrament; El Corazon Eucaristico de Jesus, the Eucharistic Heart of Jesus; La Divina Providencia, Divine Providence; La Transfiguracion del Senor, the Transfiguration of Our Lord; El Divino Sacramento, the Divine Sacrament. (III) Manifestations of the Virgin Mary—Medium frequency: La Madre de la Misericordia, the Mother of Mercy; La Purificacion de Maria, the Purification of Mary; La Virgen de Belen, the Virgin of Bethlehem. Low frequency. La Virgen del Pilar, the Virgin of the Pillar; La Virgen de las Gracias, the Virgin of the Graces; Nuestra Senora de la Defensa, Our Lady of the Defense; Nuestra Senora del Consuelo, Our Lady of Consolation. (IV) Male and female saints—Medium frequency: San Antonio Abad, Saint Anthony the Abbot; San Jose Patriarca, Saint Joseph the Patriarch; San Diego de Alcala, Saint James of Alcala; Santo Tomas, 194

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Saint Thomas; San Luis Rey de Francia, Saint Louis King of France; Santo Domingo, Saint Dominic; San Cristobal, Saint Christopher; Santa Maria Magdalena, Saint Mary Magdalen; Santa Rosa de Lima, Saint Rose of Lima; Santa Agueda, Saint Agatha. Low frequency: San Pascual Bailon [translation uncertain]; San Marcos, Saint Mark; San Hipolito, Saint Hippolyte; San Cosme y Damidn, Saints Cosmas and Damian; San Gabriel, Saint Gabriel; San Mateo, Saint Matthew; San Matias, Saint Mathias; San Lucas, Saint Luke; San Bartolome, Saint Bartholomew; San Andres, Saint Andrew; San Bernabe, Saint Barnaby; San Rafael, Saint Raphael; San Agustin, Saint Augustine; San Martin Caballero, Saint Martin the Knight; San Bias, Saint Blaise; San Fernando, Saint Ferdinand; San Simeon, Saint Simeon; San Joaquin, Saint Joachim; San Nicolas, Saint Nicholas; San Leonardo, Saint Leonard; San Jorge, Saint George; San Vicente, Saint Vincent; San Buenaventura, Saint Bonaventure; San Simon, Saint Simon; San Ambrosio, Saint Ambrose; San Jeronimo, Saint Jerome; San Esteban, Saint Stephen; Santa Filomena, Saint Philomena; Santa Barbara, Saint Barbara; Santa Ines, Saint Inez; Santa Justina, Saint Justine; Santa Apolonia, Saint Apolonia; Santa Emilia, Saint Emily; Santa Lugarda de Amberes, Saint Lugarda of Antwerp; Santa Ursula, Saint Ursula; Santa Genoveva, Saint Genevieve; Santa Beatriz, Saint Beatrice; Santa Juana, Saint Joan. (V) Pilgrimage Christs, Virgins, and saints—Medium frequency: El Senor de las Misericordias, Our Lord of Mercies; El Senor de Tepeaca, Our Lord of Tepeaca; Nuestra Senora de la Asuncion de Huamantla, Our Lady of the Assumption of Huamantla; San Pedro de Tlaltenango, Saint Peter of Tlaltenango; San Sebastian de Puebla, Saint Sebastian of Puebla. Low frequency: El Cristo de Atlacotal, Christ of Atlacotal; El Senor de Xicolapa, Our Lord of Xicolapa; El Santo Entierro de Puebla, the Holy Burial of Puebla; La Virgen de Teziutlan, The Virgin of Teziutl&n; La Virgen de Tonanzintla, the Virgin of Tonanzintla; Nuestra Senora de la Buena Muerte, Our Lady of Proper Dying; San Pablo de la Luz, Saint Paul of the Light; San Pedro de las Miserias, Saint Peter of the Miseries; San Javier de Cuacalco, Saint Xavier of Cuacalco; Santiago de Esquipulco, Saint James of Esquipulco; Santa Catarina de Matamoros, Saint Catherine of Matamoros; Santa Clara de Puebla, Saint Claire of Puebla; Santa Isabel de Ayotochco, Saint Elizabeth of Ayotochco. (VI) Souls in purgatory—Medium frequency: las animas de la rogacion, souls of the supplication. Low frequency: las animas del eterno reposo, souls of eternal rest; las animas de la Candelaria, souls of Candlemas. Two final points may be noted. First, many of the supernaturals in 195

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the category of male and female saints are not saints in the eyes of the church, but they have been so regarded in the folk Catholicism of Central Mexico; examples are Saint Mary Magdalen, Saint John the Baptist, and Saint Cecilia. Second, all the manifestations of souls in heaven and purgatory are conceived of as special kinds of supernatural, belonging essentially to the category of saints; and in the same way, rural Tlaxcalans do not discriminate behaviorally between Jesus Christ and the other five categories of Catholic supernaturals. It is because of this element that folk Catholicism as it exists in many parts of Mesoamerica has been referred to as polytheism in disguise. Symbolically, ritually, and socially, the household altar is the most important component of the private religion of rural Tlaxcalans, and it ranks second only to the community church in the overall practice of religion in the area. Indeed, the average rural Tlaxcalan adult spends more time in worship, supplication, and ritual activities at the household altar than he does in church. This is especially true in the case of the cult of the dead, which is why the household altar has been discussed at such length. Because of its central position, the traditional form and content of the household altar are the last aspects of religion to yield to secularization.

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·7· PHYSICAL FORMS AND SYMBOLIC MEANINGS OF THE OFRENDA

The decoration and arrangement of the ofrenda to the dead in the household is one of the most visible and undoubtedly the most dramatic aspect of the Todos Santos celebration. In rural Tlaxcala, it has become a sort of tourist attraction for urbanites from Puebla and other cities in the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley. (In other regions of Mesoamerica, too, some aspect of Todos Santos has become a tourist attraction; for example, the decoration of tombs in the Tarascan community of Janitzio in Michoacan, and La Llorada in the community of Mixquic in the Valley of Mexico.) A good deal has been written by Mexican journalists and popular writers about the ofrenda for Todos Santos, but there do not seem to be any systematic descriptions and analyses of this aspect of the cult of the dead by anthropologists. This chapter presents a detailed description of the types of ofrendas and their local and acculturative variations, and it concludes with an analysis of the symbolic and socioreligious meaning of the ofrenda and its constituent elements.

ARRANGEMENT OF THE OFRENDA

In terms of time and money, the household ofrenda is the most demanding part of the Todos Santos celebration. Its arrangement constitutes a more intensively expressive involvement of the household than occurs at any other time of the year, and the members of the household take great pride in the finished product. Within the traditional patterns and symbolic canons of display, they exhibit a high degree of creativity and imagination in structuring the offerings. Perhaps the best term for describing the activity of arranging the ofrenda is "composition," for the offerings are set out in a fashion designed to achieve certain visual effects and definite symbolic goals. Distinctiveness of expression is achieved by variations and innovations in the form of display, nuances in the overall construction, and emphasis in the quantity and quality of the offerings and accessories. In short, although the ofrenda is composed primarily in order to honor, supplicate, and propitiate the dead, it also serves as a vehicle of expression and a demonstration of religious fervor. In addition, it stands as a symbol of status differences, and households and nonresidential extended families use it to impress upon 197

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their neighbors the degree of their ecomonic success.1 The ofrendas of rural Tlaxcala then, are variations on a number of basic themes. In the following pages, these themes are described and an effort is made to show how the elements of the ofrenda are combined and elaborated to produce the variations. However, words alone cannot do justice to the complexity and intricate detail of the Tlaxcalan ofrenda, and so, as already indicated, they are to be supplemented by a volume of photographs (Nutini and Schorr, forthcoming). There are several points to be made before beginning the description. First, a nonresidential extended family will compose both a single major ofrenda in the "ancestral" household (as defined in chapter 6) and several "token" ofrendas in the satellite households. The token ofrendas are simplified, stylized versions of the major ones, so this discussion will deal primarily with the latter. 1 Second, the variations in the ofrendas follow essentially the same pattern as the incidence of prescriptive, preferential, and optional offerings: the most elaborate and complex ones are found in transitional households, the least elaborate and complex are found in traditional households, and those in acculturated households are intermediate in complexity. The ofrendas of transitional households may still be traditional in configuration but they differ from those in traditional households by the quantity and quality of the offerings; ofrendas in acculturated households are no longer traditional either in configuration or in the quantity and quality of the offerings. Third, the expressive, idiosyncratic elements of the ofrenda are seen primarily not in the basic configuration and themes but rather in the details: a pan de muertos or a dough confection in a new shape, a special kind of candied fruit or gelatin, an unusual cooked dish, a particular flower arrangement, especially sumptuous decorations and adornments, and so on. There is also a modicum of idiosyncratic expression in the manipulation of traditional patterns and basic configuration, but these are quite limited by the propitiating and symbolic ends that the ofrenda is supposed to achieve. Fourth, and as a corollary of the third point, traditional and transitional households try to strike a balance in their ofrendas between the traditional and the innovative, between the canons of long standing and the new elements aimed at enhancing the aesthetic and expressive elements. It is this balance between a respect for tradition and a search for artistic expression that makes the ofrenda such an appealing folk creation. Finally, aside from the effects of acculturation on particular households, the variations in the ofrenda are particularly manifested at the community level; that is, most communities in rural Tlaxcala have developed variations that are specifically theirs. 198

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Five basic types of ofrendas can be distinguished: (i) the classic traditional ofrenda of ancestral households; (2) the token ofrenda of satellite households; (3) the baroque traditional ofrenda; (4) the ofrenda of transitional households; and (5) the ofrenda of acculturated households. The types will be described in that order. Quantitatively, about 75 percent of all ofrendas are of the token type. Among the other onequarter, about 50 percent are classic traditional; 30 percent, baroque traditional; 15 percent, transitional; and 5 percent, acculturated. The Classic Traditional Ofrenda of Ancestral Households The kind of ofrenda that was virtually universal in rural Tlaxcala during the last decade of the nineteenth century, according to my oldest informants, is now regarded as the classic traditional type. It can still be seen in perhaps 50 percent of ancestral households, including many that are at an advanced stage of modernization. The other types can be described and interpreted only by reference to it. The classic ofrenda is set up on a square table or on a wooden platform, supported by two or three trestles. The surface area ranges from four by four feet to seven by seven feet, the height from twenty to twenty-five inches. The most traditional households reserve a table or platform exclusively for the ofrenda, and it is stored away for the rest of the year. The table or platform is set against the household altar, which is always at least fifteen inches higher. It is covered by a cotton or linen tablecloth in the more affluent household, by a palm-frond petate in the poorer households. In either case, the tablecloth or petate follows the contours of the table or platform and hangs down to the floor on its three exposed sides. Another acceptable arrangement is to cover the surface with a petate, and the exposed sides with strands of paper cutouts. Shortly after the turn of the century, tablecloths made of tela de sarape and sarapes de saltillo began to be used, and they soon became part of the traditional ofrenda. The altar itself is also covered with a tablecloth, usually one made of multicolored tissue paper, or instead it may be adorned with plant materials, mainly fern and palm fronds, pine branches, and small capulin branches. The base of the console or bracket-shelf of the retable is covered with retangular paper cutouts, a vase of baby's breath is placed at each end, and its edges are decorated with stemless zempoalxochitl flowers. The entire retable is framed with black and yellow, black and white, or black and red rosettes or other paper figures following the contour of the framed pictures with dark blue or red ribbons, or with garlands made of pine, ferns, and ocoxochitl. Garlands of the same ma199

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terial or zempoalxochitl flowers are hung from the ceiling; they touch the framed pictures, looping downward in the shape of a bell. The sacred precinct may also be decorated with papier-mache, paper figurines, or plant materials in the shape of wreaths or garlands. One requirement is that there be a trail of zempoalxochitl petals strewn on the floor of the room to show the returning souls the place of the ofrenda. Finally, a bouquet of zempoalxochitl flowers is nailed to the outside wall just above the lintel of the door. Considerable leeway is permitted in the decoration and arrangement of the altar, retable, and sacred precinct, because, although these elements are an intrinsic aspect of the ofrenda, they are regarded as "receptacles" and not as symbolic and propitiating elements of the ofrenda itself. The arrangement of the offerings in the classic ofrenda conforms to a number of patterns that are believed essential to achievement of success in the propitiation, intensification, and supplication of the dead. The required offerings are not only those that have been in longest use, but also those that reflect the foodstuffs and personal elements intrinsic to the folk culture of rural Tlaxcala. New offerings are occasionally introduced, primarily for their expressive value, and these may or may not become traditional. The specialization in the cult of the dead is another factor which affects the composition of the ofrenda: different kinds of the dead require different kinds of offerings, a differentiation that is most notable as it concerns infants and children. Given the preeminence of the cult of dead infants and children, the offerings associated with them are the most permanent ones; conversely, the offerings associated with adults are most likely to include preferential and optional elements. Probably some ten to twelve offerings were added to the classic ofrenda between the turn of the century and i960, even while the basic configuration and patterns of arrangement remained constant. 3 Under the direction of the household elders, the adults and youngsters of the nonresidential extended family are engaged in the arrangement and decoration of the ofrenda over a period of two to four hours. First, however, the table or platform must be set up and covered with tablecloths or petates; this has been done by the morning of October 28. By then also, the household has most of the offerings ready at hand, with the possible exception of the pan de muertos, which is always baked last. The specialization of the cult of the dead requires that, on that day and on each of the following four days, one or two offerings be placed on the table or platform honoring the category of the dead to which that day is particularly dedicated. On the morning of the 31st, the family proceeds to the general composition of the ofrenda. One or 200

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two offerings, however, are kept aside for ceremonial placement on the ofrenda on November i, the day for honoring all dead adults. The punctiliousness and concern with the ritual placement of the offerings, according to the prescribed syntagmatic chain entailed by the five categories of the dead, resembles the incantation of a magical formula, in which any deviation from prescription detracts from its intended effect. By noon of the ist, all the offerings have been placed on the table or platform; if the special offerings for the various types of the dead have caused some disarray, the situation is immediately remedied, and the ofrenda acquires the form in which it remains until it is dismantled. The general configuration of the ofrenda is that of a pyramid slanted toward the altar, with gently sloping sides and with a broad peak that rises slightly higher than the altar. The length of the slope from the peak to the front edge of the table or platform is fifteen to eighteen inches. The base of the pyramid is formed by the four sides of the table or platform, the edges of which are decorated with stemless zempoalxochitl flowers. The entire surface is covered with offerings, and more offerings are placed on top of them to form the pyramid. The larger ofrendas contain about three times as many offerings and ancillary items as the smaller ones. The amounts of cooked dishes, liquids, and antojitos remain the same, regardless of size, but the larger ofrendas contain more pan de muertos loaves, dough confections, candied fruits, tamales, and especially bananas, oranges, and sugar cane. A row of oranges and mandarins is placed along the back and the two sides of the ofrenda table. Mounds of oranges and mandarins are formed at the four corners, supported at the base by individual cuttings of sugar cane. Also at the back, several bunches of sugar cane are placed against the altar as support for other offerings. Along with them, and comprising a distinct theme, are displayed the bananas, jicamas, nopalitos, and other fruits and vegetables. The bananas are the most decorative element. Both yellow and purplish ones are displayed, always in rather large bunches; they constitute the backdrop of the construction and are primarily what gives it its characteristic shape. The purplish banana bunches form the summit. Two pineapples with their stalks are displayed symmetrically about fifteen to eighteen inches from the center of the mound, at the point where the banana bunches begin to pile up. Finally, two or three soursops are displayed on a dish right at the center. This skeleton is then fleshed out by the other offerings. The most abundant offering is pan de muertos, in several shapes and sizes. There are no requirements for particular kinds, except that there must always be at least six hojaldras coloradas. However, the classic ofrenda usually includes two or three sizes of rosquillas, coronas, and/ 201

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or canastas. It is not unusual for some of the most sumptuous ofrendas to have more than a hundred loaves of different kinds, and they are the most important and visible component of the ofrenda, occupying roughly one half of the front of the table and slightly more than half of the rear half. They are displayed side by side, one against the other in an inclined position, the larger loaves toward the back and the smaller, more decorated loaves toward the front. The hojaldras are interspersed among the other loaves. The various kinds of loaves stacked against the massed banana bunches create the visual effect of a quilted pattern. If the fruits constitute the upper slopes and summit of the composition, the pan de muertos are its midslopes and lower slopes. Together, the pan de muertos and the fruits and vegetables form the central elements of the ofrenda, with respect to which all the other offerings are arranged. The other dough confections are a figurative icing on top of the cake, since they are placed on top and in the interstices of the pan de muertos. The required rosquetes and tlacotonales are among the most visible and decorative offerings. They are propped against the pan de muertos, in groups of two or three, symmetrically spaced along the middle and upper slopes. With their strange and convoluted shapes and brilliant ochre and purplish colors, they are (except for the sugar skulls) the most striking sight in the ofrenda. The other dough confections—animas, tortas, and lisos—are scattered among the pan de muertos in no discernible pattern but with an eye to the aesthetic qualities of the ofrenda. The crystallized sugar skulls are unquestionably the single most startling element of the ofrenda. The larger skulls are usually displayed on the higher slopes of the composition, while small ones on a dish are placed at the bottom, often with other sweets or cookies. There is usually at least one skull for every dead infant, child, and adult being honored in that particular year (that is, all members of the nonresidential extended family who have died within the past four years). The sugar skulls memorializing specific individuals are the larger ones; those honoring infants and children are white, while those honoring adults are polychrome. Other, similar skulls are displayed in remembrance of all the dead souls and for expressive purposes. Typically, there is a group of three sugar skulls near the summit, on top of the loaves of pan de muertos and against the background of the banana bunches. Small and miniature sugar skulls are often displayed on china dishes. Alongside these dishes of sugar skulls there are usually two dishes of gallitos de pepita and a dish of crystallized sugar figurines. Together, these dishes form a line—about fifteen or twenty inches from the front 202

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of the table and running its entire width—that separates the fruit, bread, and dough confections in the back from the rest of the offerings in front. The only exception is that two dishes of white and blue tortillas are placed near the rear corners, amidst the fruit and vegetable offerings. Otherwise, all the other offerings, about a quarter of the total, are displayed in this forward area. To the right of the dishes of gallitos and sugar figurines are the dishes of tacha and chacualole. There is at least one dish of each of these offerings, and as many as three, depending on the size of the table or platform. The dishes of candied fruit and those bearing the cups or glasses of gelatins and flans are at the left of the central dishes; there are as many dishes of these offerings as there are dishes on the left side of the line. This whole line of offerings may contain as many as twelve evenly spaced china dishes, forming a marked visual and symbolic contrast to the middle and rear parts of the ofrenda. The offerings are artistically displayed in their dishes; the gallitos and small sugar skulls especially are arranged in a number of decorative patterns. In front of these are the liquids and liquors. To the right are placed the bottles or jars of blessed water, potable water, and rainwater, in precisely that order. To the left are placed the bottles, jars, or glasses of milk, pulque, and liquor, again in precisely that order. In the center of this line are placed cigarettes and matches, chocolate, and any other indulgences enjoyed by particular dead adults while they were alive. Any available space in this line and at either end of it is filled with various kinds of delicacies and treats. Tlatlapas, tamales tontos, and tamales rellenos are required, and pellizcadas and gorditas may also be displayed. The first three of these may be placed on china dishes or earthenware containers, but in the classic ofrenda they are always displayed individually. The pellizcadas are placed on a china dish at the extreme right, the gorditas on an earthenware dish at the extreme left. The tlatlapas and the tamales in their corn husks are packed closed together, sometimes in an interspersed pattern, sometimes with the tlatlapas at the center and the two types of tamales toward the sides. Finally, there are the cooked dishes and sauces. In most municipios, the only required offering in this category is mole de huajolote, but in five municipios on the central-western slopes of La Malintzi, mole prieto is also required. Mole de pipian is optional, but many households offer it in both red and green varieties. All the mole is displayed in a straight line, just behind the front edge of zempoalxochitl flowers. The mole de huajolote is displayed in china bowls (platos soperos), with pieces of turkey or chicken, and always at the center of the ofrenda. If no other kind of mole is offered, there may be as many as 203

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ten of these bowls. If mole de pipian is included, one or two earthenware bowls with pieces of turkey or chicken are placed at the ends of the line. If both mole de pipian and mole prieto are displayed, one or two earthenware bowls of the former are placed at the right of the line, and one or two earthenware bowls of the latter, also containing pieces of pork, are placed at the left. The bowls of mole are filled almost to the brim, and the pieces of turkey, chicken, or pork are propped up so that they stick out of the mole. The spaces in front of and behind the bowls are filled with the smallest tamales, so that the cooked-dish offerings and the delicacies and treats make a solid mass of foodstuffs. Finally, the classic ofrenda also includes an earthenware bowl with handles fifteen to twenty inches wide at the top, filled with mole that does not contain any pieces of turkey or chicken. This bowl is placed on a low wooden bench to the left of the center of the ofrenda, some six inches from the front of the table or platform; the rim of the bowl must be lower than the table. This is the only foodstuff offering not displayed on the table or platform. At the periphery of the classic ofrenda, the most prominent offerings are the clothing and implements. Clothing for dead males and females must be displayed for four consecutive years. The most common articles are hats, cotones, and sarapes for men and fajas, huipiles, and rebozos for women. Occasionally, shoes or huaraches for both men and women are also displayed. All these personal articles are displayed on a straight-back wooden chair placed to the right of the center of the ofrenda table and some eight to ten inches from its front edge, with the back of the chair toward the table. Sarapes and rebozos are slung over the back of the chair, and hats are tilted against the back; the other items are folded and piled on the seat. A large mound of the first fruits of white and blue corn is displayed on a petate under the table. If the household has a pre-Hispanic stone idol, it is displayed on the floor, a few inches in front of the center of the ofrenda, decorated with zempoalxochitl flowers. Any pre-Hispanic clay figurines that the household may own are displayed in a small bowl on the console or bracket-shelf of the retable. The main floral decoration is a very large bouquet of zempoalxochitl flowers in an olla placed two or three feet in front of the ofrenda. The two other required flowers in the classic ofrenda are amaranth and wildflowers. Small bouquets of amaranth (either moco de pavo or pata de leon or both) and wildflowers, in a vase and an earthenware container respectively, are placed on the console or bracket-shelf. If gladioli and carnations are displayed, they are in glass vases set on small benches placed at the sides and toward the back of the table. Another optional flower, gardenias, are dis204

FORMS AND MEANINGS OF THE OFRENDA

played in their containers made from banana-tree trunks, in a prominent place, generally at the base of the ascending slope of pan de muertos. Seven-inch black-glazed candlesticks are placed at the four corners of the table. Four large dark candles are kept constantly burning in them from the time the ofrenda is set up until the evening of La Despedida. Depending on whether infants and children are being remembered in a particular year, other candles, white ones and the various types of veladoras, are placed on the console or bracket-shelf. A small white candle and a veladora are also kept burning. A supply of candles and veladoras sufficient to last for the entire proceedings is put in the chiquihuite next to the altar. Another chiquihuite containing the decorations and candles that will be taken to the cemetery is placed next to it. Four black-glazed copalcaxitls are neatly lined up in front of the ofrenda a foot or so from the earthenware bowl of mole de huajolote. Pine resin is kept burning in one of the copalcaxitls. For the farewell rite to the dead on the evening of La Despedida, the candlesticks and the copalcaxitls are rearranged to mark the four cardinal points of the compass, as I described in chapter 5. The offerings in honor of those who have died since the last Todos Santos celebration are not displayed on the table that holds the rest of the ofrenda. Rather, separate offerings are arranged for each individual infant, child, or adult who may have died during this period. This is called the ofrenda de primer muerto (literally, ofrenda of first death). It consists of pan de muertos, an assortment of fruits, some dough confections, a crystallized sugar skull, and some offering characteristically associated with the age status of the honored dead. All these offerings are put in a medium-size chiquihuite strewn with zempoalxochitl petals for adults and the petals of any white flowers for infants and children, and placed at the right side of the main ofrenda table. There is one ofrenda de primer muerto for each first-year deceased. (This is obviously a vestigial remembrance of the pre-Hispanic belief concerning the long pilgrimage undertaken by the dead before reaching their final destination.) Since as many as sixty people may be tied to an ancestral household, it is not unusual for there to be three or four ofrendas de primer muerto in a given year. This special ofrenda counts as the first of the four consecutive years when a dead person is individually and specifically honored and remembered on Todos Santos. The foregoing description is admittedly an ideal version of the classic ofrenda, yet it is nevertheless sometimes fully realized in practice. In the six Todos Santos celebrations that I have witnessed in rural Tlaxcala, I have observed at least a dozen ofrendas that did not deviate from it 205

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even in small details. Many others, however, while still classic in form, structure, and thematic display, show variations in strictness of symmetry, precision of execution, and quantity and quality of offerings. A perfectly executed classic ofrenda is the most creative expressive construction of rural Tlaxcalans. To the observer, native or foreign, it is an impressive aesthetic accomplishment. To the anthropologist, it expresses better than any other religious, social, or material manifestation of creativity, the conjunction of folk art and the ideas that regulate human-supernatural relationships. The love and care of execution, the subtle and at the same time dramatic contrasts in color and form, and the appealing strangeness of the entire ensemble is an eloquent statement by which the people honor their dear departed, offer them the best they have, and invite them to join them for a transient moment in their world of existence. This spirit of generosity, peace, and resignation is the fundamental meaning of the Todos Santos celebration to rural Tlaxcalans. The Token Ofrenda of Satellite Households A nonresidential extended family may include from two to as many as seven satellite households. Each of these satellites participates in the celebrations for Todos Santos by baking pan de muertos, cooking the special dishes, buying fruits and vegetables, making decorations, and so on. Part of these are contributed to the composition of the ancestral ofrenda, but most are used for personal ofrendas to individuals and groups and for the token ofrendas. The token ofrendas are set up before the ancestral ofrenda, not only because they are simpler affairs but also so that people will be ready and unencumbered for the composition of the latter, which is one of the main events of Todos Santos. A token ofrenda is arranged on a small square, or, more commonly, rectangular table, one which has been in daily use. It is usually at least thirty-two inches high and its surface is not larger than forty by twenty-five inches. The top is covered with a simple tablecloth made of tissue paper, and the sides are covered with paper cutouts. The table is placed up against the household altar without any ceremonies, even if the altar is not oriented toward the north. Generally, nothing special is done to the space surrounding it or to the room in which it is located, except perhaps for some simple decorations of flowers and plant materials and zempoalxochitl petals strewn on the floor to show the returning dead the way to the ofrenda. A token ofrenda always includes pan de muertos and some rosquetes and tlacotonales; two crystallized sugar skulls; a dish of tacha; a china 206

FORMS AND MEANINGS OF THE OFRENDA

dish of tlatlapas and an earthenware dish of tamales tontos and tamales rellenos; and an assortment of fruits, with bananas, oranges, and sugar cane being required. It also displays one of the special offerings connected with the death of infants, children, and adults under the circumstances discussed in chapter 5, but, as in the case of the ancestral ofrenda, only for the consecutive four years of remembrance. No other offerings are required, and indeed little else is included. The general arrangement of the offerings follows the same pattern as in the ancestral ofrenda, as far as is possible on such a small table. The fruits are displayed in the back, the pan de muertos in the center, and everything else in the front. First ears of corn are optional, but most people put a few near the back of the table. A large bouquet of zempoalxochitl flowers in an olla is placed in front of the table; two dark candles in candlesticks are kept burning on the front corners of the table as is a veladora on the console or bracket-shelf of the retable; and a copalcaxitl is placed in front of the table, to the left of the zempoalxochitl flowers. Although the most important events of Todos Santos take place at the altar and ofrenda of the ancestral household, there are ritual and social occasions that do not involve the presence of many members of the nonresidential extended family. At these times, the satellite households function independently, and the token ofrendas take on some importance. As households and communities approach the modernized end of the cultural continuum, the token ofrenda becomes more and more elaborate, until it is only a step away from becoming altogether independent of the ancestral household's ofrenda—a concomitant of the decline and disintegration of the nonresidential extended family, to be discussed below. The Baroque Traditional Ofrenda The baroque ofrenda is still traditional in form, structure, and intent,4 but it is no longer classic. The soberly tempered lines of the classic ofrenda are replaced by an extreme of elaboration, apparently based on the idea that an overabundance of offerings and decorations enhances attainment of the goals of the ofrenda—in other words, that "more is better." As this might suggest, most baroque ofrendas are found in newly affluent households, and one of their main functions is to express the household's economic status. The baroque ofrenda reveals the first effect of modernization in the cult of the dead: while the people continue to adhere to the basic goal of gaining the protection and support 207

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of the souls in heaven and purgatory, they have come to believe that there are better ways than the old ones for reaching the goal. The table on which the baroque ofrenda is composed is larger than that of the classic ofrenda, often surpassing the maximum size of the latter. Moreover, it is no longer the traditional square shape, but rather is a utilitarian rectangular table. The general arrangement of the sacred precinct is the same, but, especially in the decorations and accessories, there is more use of flashy and colorful materials (such as paper figurines, papier-mache, and other "synthetic" elements) bought outside the home, at the expense of such traditional elements as cloth, vegetable garlands, and flower wreaths. The single most important criterion that allows the baroque to be regarded as traditional is that it includes all the prescriptive offerings, and in their required context and form. The particular offerings associated with the different kinds of infant, child, and adult dead are also complied with. It is in the essentially expressive display of preferential and optional offerings that the baroque ofrenda departs furthest from the classic. In other words, required offerings are affected only quantitatively, while preferential and optional offerings are affected both quantitatively and qualitatively. The result is more spectacular but aesthetically less appealing. The baroque ofrenda consists of at least one-third more offerings and decorations than the classical ofrenda; this means five to seven dozen types. Indeed, it is not inconceivable that some of the most elaborate baroque ofrendas could have all seventy-five types of offerings and all thirty types of decorations and accessories in the thirteen major categories discussed above. Some households exhibit a veritable compulsion to display as many offerings and decorations as they can make or buy, and they go to great lengths to obtain the necessary raw materials or the finished products, as the case may be. However, the ordinary household with a baroque ofrenda adopts a different strategy. Rather than trying to display all possibly available offerings, it compensates for those that for one reason or another are not forthcoming by increasing the quantity of others, usually in the categories of breads and other dough confections, sweet confections and cookies, candied fruits and preserves, delicacies and treats, and fruits and vegetables. These increments affect the symmetry of the ofrenda as well as the distribution of offerings, and they give the entire ensemble a massive, spectacular aspect. The periphery of the baroque ofrenda is essentially the same as that of the classic, except that so many offerings of clothing and utilitarian implements may be included that three chairs are needed to display 208

San J u a n Totolac: simple sculpted grave

San Juan Totolac: elaborate sculpted grave

San Nicolas Panotla: simple sculpted double grave

Santa Maria Acxotla del Monte: decorated atrium

San Francisco Tetlanohca: baroque ofrenda

San Esteban Tizatlan: acculturated ofrenda

San Juan Totolac: simple sculpted double grave

San Francisco Tepeyango: simple tiled grave

FORMS AND MEANINGS OF THE OFRENDA

them. Also, the decoration of the sacred precinct relies more on the use of materials that are bought than on those made at home. In everything else, the baroque ofrenda remains faithful to the classic pattern: the distribution, placement, and composition of offerings on the table; the general disposition of candlesticks, copalcaxitls, and other ritual elements; the household personnel who participate in setting it up; and the timetable regarding the arrangement, duration, and disposition of the offerings. With respect to the ideology and belief system underlying the cult of the dead, the rural Tlaxcalan households that set up baroque ofrendas also adhere faithfully to the same traditional world view as that found in the classic households. In other words, 80 percent of all rural Tlaxcalan households may be regarded as traditional practitioners of the cult of the dead, if one includes the satellite households linked to the ancestral households that have either classic or baroque ofrendas. 5 The households that continue to set up classic ofrendas regard with tolerance the departures from tradition shown in the baroque ofrenda, regarding them as minor and as not contravening in any serious way the proper worship and propitiation of the dead for Todos Santos. Their displeasure at the slight departures from the old ways is matched by a degree of envy for the economic status and daring ways of these incipiently modernizing households. These attitudes were expressed in the following way by one of my informants: "Me parece bien que la gente trate de superarse y mejorar su manera de vivir. Pero no por eso deben olvidar las costumbres que nos legaron nuestros antepasados, que se deben siguir al pie de la letra. Hay mas y mas gente que creen que por tener un poco mas de dinero se puedan dar el lujo de cambiar Io que siempre hemos hecho en honra de nuestros muertos. Y Io que mas me aflige es que esta pasando Io mismo con muchas otras de nuestras costumbres." (I believe it is good that people try to improve themselves and their standard of living. But this is no reason for them to forget the customs bequeathed to us by our ancestors, which must be complied with faithfully. There are more and more people who believe that because they have a bit more money they can afford the luxury to change what we have always done in honor of our dead. And what worries me most is that the same is happening with many other of our customs.) The Ofrenda of Transitional Households The members of transitional households still believe that the cult of the dead in general, and the propitiation of the souls of departed kinsmen in particular, are suitable ways of communicating with the super209

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natural, but they are no longer willing to adhere to tradition in order to achieve the ends entailed by the human-supernatural covenant. The ofrenda in these households becomes more and more an instrument of self-expression, without any aesthetic gains. This departure from traditionalism also suggests skepticism concerning the efficacy of the cult of the dead, and hence the very necessity for the ofrenda as an instrument of propitiation, supplication, and worship. The 15 percent of households that set up transitional ofrendas belong to the most affluent sector of their communities, constituting what have been described elsewhere as local economic elites (Nutini and Bell 1980:275-279). They are also among the more acculturated, outward-looking and modern rural Tlaxcalan households. Their continuous and longstanding contact with the outside world, in the form of labor migration and numerous other economic ties to the city, has made them most susceptible to change, innovation, and the internalization of modernizing trends. Indeed, this sector of rural Tlaxcalan society has spearheaded the rapid changes that have affected the area since the Second World War, manifested in the ofrenda and in several other domains in the realm of religion. There are no rigid requirements for the type and shape of the table for the transitional ofrenda. Many different kinds of surfaces are considered suitable. Most commonly, however, two square or rectangular tables or platforms are used, one set against the household altar and six to eight inches higher than the other, which is placed in front of it and either parallel to it or at right angles to it in the form of a T. The profusion of offerings in the transitional ofrenda is, if anything, even greater than in the baroque ofrenda.6 Moreover, the traditional patterns of display, and the meticulous care taken to achieve symmetry and an aesthetic effect in the arrangement, are gone. Instead, the offerings are piled on top of each other in a largely disorganized fashion, except that the fruits, vegetables, and breads are placed on the rear table and all the other offerings on the front one. There is little effort to achieve the pyramidal shape of the classic ofrenda. The visual effect is further blurred by the indiscriminate strewing of baby's breath, zempoalxochitl, and other flowers over all the offerings except the dishes of cooked food. Perhaps the most significant difference from the traditional ofrenda is the abandonment of specialized offerings associated with the various kinds of dead persons, for that strikes at the very heart of the cult of the dead. Gone also in the transitional ofrenda is the precise disposition of candlesticks, copalcaxitls, and other ancillary items that bore so much of the symbolic meaning in the classic ofrenda. These items are placed 210

FORMS AND MEANINGS OF THE OFRENDA

at the front and sides of the ofrenda, in complete disregard of the traditional patterns. Stone idols, clay figurines, wildflowers, and photographs are absent, for these are regarded in traditional households as signs of backwardness and superstition. Clothing and utilitarian implements are no longer displayed around the periphery of the ofrenda, but are replaced with decorations of zempoalxochitl and other flowers. The pictures and statues on the retable are embellished with flowers and paper cutouts, and the entire retable is adorned with paper garlands and figurines and papier-mache. The sacred precinct is also profusely decorated with homemade and bought garlands and other string decorations, sometimes made of such outlandish materials as cannelloni interspersed with beer and soft-drink caps. The whole arrangement has a decidedly gaudy air, resembling the traditional ofrenda less than the ambiance of a fiesta in the lower-class sector of a Mexican city. In conclusion, the modernizing and to some extent secularizing trends affecting rural Tlaxcala have in some households transformed the transitional ofrenda into a display honoring the dead that is no longer either classic or traditional in any meaningful way. The ideology and belief system of the cult of the dead still lead to compliance with the injunction to set up an ofrenda, but in these households it is an act of spurious tradition and expression as much as it is one of worship and propitiation. Households that set up transitional ofrendas believe that tradition is served by the mere act of constructing an ofrenda, but they feel free to display the offerings, decorate the retable, and adorn the sacred precinct as they wish, regardless of custom, and according to what they regard as patterns of expression that are more consonant with those of the outside world. In this view, the protection and help that the ofrenda is supposed to achieve is subjected to or conditioned by new canons of arrangement and display, which those concerned do not regard as in any way any less efficacious than those entailed by traditionalism. Herein lie the roots of secularization of the cult of the dead: cutting corners leads in time to serious changes in the physical manifestation of a complex, which in turn leads to questioning the supporting ideology and belief system and eventually to the disintegration and rejection of the entire complex. The Ofrenda of Acculturated

Households

There are no "secularized" households in rural Tlaxcala, if by that term is meant households that have completely rejected the cult of the dead and hence do not set up ofrendas for Todos Santos at all. There are, however, acculturated households: those that, tenuously bound by 211

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tradition, still set up ofrendas, although they may seriously question the aim of this ritual act in particular and the protection and help afforded by the souls of the dead in general. Every community probably has a handful of such households, but the majority of them are concentrated in six or seven communities along the Puebla-Tlaxcala-Apizco highway, universally regarded in the area as the most acculturated. These households represent the most outward-looking, nationally integrated segment of the local economic elites. Culturally, this segment is more urban and national than rural Tlaxcalan, and in most respects it would be difficult to distinguish it from that rather nebulous lowermiddle and upper-lower sectors of the Mexican urban stratification system. Specifically, these are the households of local schoolteachers, federal and state government employees, monopolizers of local craft (cottage-industry) production, and others of the most affluent local families. As a discernible social group, this segment has been in existence since the late 1940s, and in many rural Tlaxcalan communities, it has played a role whose importance has been disproportionate to its small size.7 The ofrenda in acculturated households is essentially a token display. It should be pointed out that, not only among the acculturated segment of the local economic elites but perhaps among the local economic elites as a whole, the nonresidential extended family is no longer an effective kinship unit. Former satellite households have become independent social, religious, and economic units, and this has had a serious effect on the ofrenda. Having to fend for themselves, individual households are not able to mobilize the economic resources needed to set up an elaborate display, especially under the constraints of a changing world view that dictates different social and economic priorities. In other words, the simplified acculturated ofrenda is an expression of rapid social and religious change; Hp service is paid to tradition, but its expression is no longer important. It must be noted, however, that the majority of economic-elite households set up elaborate and expensive ofrendas of the transitional type. Like the token ofrenda, the acculturated ofrenda is set up on a rather small, utilitarian rectangular table in front of the household altar. It is sparsely decorated, and so is the retable, which is left untouched except for some floral decorations. There is no discernible pattern of arrangement; the offerings are displayed idiosyncratically, though still with a certain touch of the traditional order. The offerings are confined to breads and dough confections, vegetables and fruits, some sweets, and occasionally gelatins and a few delicacies. Cooked dishes and sauces, liquors and liquids, clothing and utilitarian implements, and the other 212

FORMS AND MEANINGS OF THE OFRENDA

offerings that give a characteristic style to traditional and even transi­ tional ofrendas are conspicuously absent. The acculturated ofrenda gives an impression of ritual poverty and indifference, in startling con­ trast to the exaggerated and gaudy decoration of the sacred precinct, marked by a profusion of paper flags, paper figurines, papier-mache, and synthetic bought decorations hanging from the ceiling and walls. In such a setting, the ofrenda itself looks awkward, out of place, and slightly offensive. This entire ensemble symbolizes the striving for upward mobility in which the most acculturated households are engaged.8 Indeed, that is just how traditionalists view these households. One articulate inform­ ant expressed the attitude in these words: "Son gente igualada y presentuosa, que por tener dinero ο un mejor trabajo se creen superiores a nosotros. Apenas dejan de ser macehuales se llenan de infulas y se sienten mejores que todos. Quieren ser como la gente decente de la ciudad, pero no saben que se rien de ellos por copiones sin modales. Mire no­ mas las barbaridades de ofrendas que hacen! Parecen mas bien arreglos de fiesta que ofrendas a los muertos." (They are uppity and presump­ tuous people who, because they have money or a better job, think of themselves as superior to us. No sooner do they cease to be macehuales [Indians, peasants] when they take on airs and feel that they are better than everybody. They want to be like gente decente [proper, middle class] city people, but they do not know that they are laughed at for being copycats without manners. Look at the awful ofrendas they set up! They look more like [secular] fiesta arrangements than offerings to the dead.) The most significant differences between acculturated and other ofrendas—pointing toward the total demise of the cult of the dead— are symbolic and ideological. First, households that set up classic, ba­ roque, and even transitional ofrendas bake their own pan de muertos, prepare their own dough for cookies and other confections, and try to make at home as many other offerings as possible, but in acculturated households, everything is bought and only the arrangement and deco­ ration of the ensemble is done by the participants. Second, people no longer discharge or even remember practices in the placement of can­ dles and copalcaxitls, the particular offerings for the various kinds of dead, the orientation of the household altar, and so on. Third, people do not believe in and may even scorn the core of beliefs underlying the celebration of Todos Santos: that the dead return for the celebration, that they partake of the food offered to them, that the souls of dead kinsmen watch over the welfare of the household, and so on. One may well ask why these acculturated households bother to set 213

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up ofrendas at all. One reason is the continuing albeit minimal hold of tradition. Another reason was well put by an informant: "consecuentar a la gente"—to go along with the people, for this sector is part of the community and interacts with it daily in a number of ways. Variations in the Arrangements The foregoing typology of ofrendas is the reflection of two variables: degree of complexity or elaborateness, and degree of traditionalism. The variable of traditionalism operates in a linear fashion over time: the classic and satellite ofrendas are the most traditional, and the degree of traditionalism then declines from the baroque to the transitional and acculturated ofrendas. The degree of complexity, however, is nonlinear: while the classic ofrenda is moderately elaborate, the satellite ofrenda is considerably less so, the baroque and transitional ofrendas are highly elaborate, and finally in the acculturated ofrenda the degree of complexity is greatly reduced.9 In this typology, the household has been taken as the unit of analysis. Thus, individuals are viewed as experiencing acculturation in the context of the household, for it is households that become acculturated as the result of a process of outward orientation, labor migration, and increasing economic and social contact with the urban, national culture. Although the majority of households are still traditional in their adherence to the ofrenda complex, it has been possible to distinguish five categories exhibiting varying degrees of traditionalism. In other words, the typology of ofrendas has been implicitly used as an index of the degree of acculturation of the segments of the population that display them. Finally, there are "idiosyncratic" factors that operate at both the household and the community level. They may be rooted in tradition or influenced by the outside world, but in either case they are individual or collective expressions that serve or manifest a variety of functions, including identification of a given social group, facilitation of upward mobility, and marking the boundaries between social, economic, ethnic, and cultural groups. Thus, one may observe traditional households that set up essentially acculturated ofrendas and, conversely, acculturated households that set up essentially classic ofrendas. All that can be said about the ofrendas in such cases is that they have an important expressive component, which may indeed be the single most important factor that accounts for their deviation from the traditional-acculturative continuum. Distinctions among particular communities have, at least to the cas214

FORMS AND MEANINGS OF THE OFRENDA

ual observer, more noticeable dimensions. Most communities in rural Tlaxcala like to think of themselves as having something special in this ritual activity that disinguishes them from neighboring settlements, though it is not always easy to see what that is. However, it is clearly the case that there are perhaps ten communities that tower above all others in the arrangement and display of ofrendas. Among the most noted are San Juan Totolac, Santa Maria Atlihuetzian, Santa Cruz Tlaxcala, La Magdalena Tlaltelulco, Santa Catarina Ayometla, and Santiago Tlacochcalco. These communities take special communal pride in their ofrendas, enjoy showing them to friends and visitors from the city, and do not skimp on expenses in any aspect of this ritual activity. Their ofrendas are exclusively of the classic and baroque types and are as lavish as households can afford. Indeed, a certain amount of pressure is brought to bear against recalcitrant households, and a degree of economic help may be forthcoming from kinsmen, compadres, and friends if it is requested. The goal of communal excellence can only be achieved, the people maintain, by the same kind of collective action that is involved in the mayordomia system and other components of the traditional folk religion. In these communities, the ofrenda becomes the focal activity in the annual cycle of rituals. This may reflect some kind of communal anxiety or instability, which Roberts and Sutton-Smith {i96z:^^j-4$z) discuss as a common function of expressive behavior. It is suggestive that the communities with "superior" ofrendas are among the more acculturated in rural Tlaxcala, where one would expect acculturated and transitional ofrendas to predominate. Perhaps, then, the exaltation of the ofrenda is an expressive manifestation of deep-seated conflict, as these communities approach the acculturative end of the continuum in the process of rapid culture change. SOCIOREUGIOUS MEANING AND SYMBOLIC ANALYSIS OF THE OFFERINGS TO THE DEAD

In this and previous chapters, the symbolic and socioreligious meanings of many aspects of the ofrenda and of the cult of the dead have been alluded to. In this section, these meanings will be systematically described and analyzed. They are contained in both the expressive component of the complex and the belief system underlying the cult of the dead. As a general rule, the symbolism and meaning of the former are manifest, while the symbolism and meaning of the latter are latent. In some cases, the symbolic meanings are so obvious as to reveal the "misplaced concreteness" of which I have spoken before. On the other 215

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hand, symbolism and meaning are often hard to elicit and interpret without an extensive knowledge of the folk religion and its underlying world view. Furthermore, symbolic analysis and interpretation, in order to be helpful in explaining individual and collective behavior, must be firmly grounded in the social system. The following discussion is divided into sections dealing with special offerings to the various kinds of dead, the complex of offerings to the dead in general, the ofrenda array as a whole, and ancillary rites and activities. Special Offerings to the Various Kinds of Dead Of the five kinds of dead (those who die in accidents, those who die violently, infants, children, and adults), infants and children are the most clearly associated with offerings having manifest symbolic meaning. The symbolism of special offerings to the other three categories is not so obvious and is not entirely intelligible independently of the inherent symbolic meaning of the offered items themselves or the general array of offerings for all dead souls. Nevertheless, the fact that rural Tlaxcalans do distinguish the worship and propitiation of five different kinds of dead souls is an indication of the orderliness in the ritual and ceremonial life of rural Tlaxcalans, which almost invariably specifies distinct activities for every social and religious event or situation. 10 As already noted, the primary offerings for the souls of dead infants are specially baked pans de muertos, candied animal figurines, fine fruits, and milk. To these may be added tlacotonales, animas, small sugar skulls, gelatins, and small bouquets of baby's breath. Any three or four of these offerings are displayed in the classic and baroque ofrenda, but two are always present: milk and soursops. The symbolism of milk is obvious, but not that of soursops. These Mesoamerican fruits, especially one known as the chirimoya, resemble a female breast. The offering symbolizes Tonacacuauhtitlan (Tree of Sustenance), the final destination of dead infants in the pre-Hispanic polytheistic system. This belief, and some of the practices that went with it, have survived until the present, though somewhat changed and embellished. Starr (1900:29) recorded it, and he explicitly translated chichihuaquaco (the final destination of dead infants) as "where the trees bear chichis [teats]." All that had changed in the nearly four hundred years before Starr's fieldwork was that Tonacacuauhtitlan, a poetic conception (see chapter 2) had become chichihuaquaco, a pragmatic conception, and that its location was no longer in the heaven of the creation couple but in a land far from Tlaxcala: Quechol, Starr's chief informant, maintained that Chihuahua, the name of a city and state in north216

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ern Mexico, was a corruption of chichihuaquaco. The succulence and the pleasing taste of the chirimoya symbolizes not only the final destination of dead infants but also the fertility that it is supposed to foster on behalf of human beings. The other offerings to infants are not exclusive to them, and their symbolic meanings will be discussed later. The special offerings for children are small loaves of pan de muertos, rosquetes, gallitos, tamales tontos, pears or apples, and a treat the child enjoyed while he was alive. Others that may be added are tortas, dukes de azucar, and ates. Again, the symbolism of these offerings will be discussed below. However, a comparison of the offerings for infants and children reveals not only an acknowledgement of the difference in age status, through the edibles offered, but also a belief that there is a difference in the social persona of infants and children: the former are not quite entirely human and are destined to a special place; the latter are fully formed human beings and are remembered in specifically experienced situations. This explains why the offerings for children include an item of clothing that they particularly liked, while infants are never remembered in this fashion. The offerings to infants, especially soursops, further suggest that they are held to be stronger objects of supplication concerning fertility and the agricultural cycle than children are. There is some overlap between the beliefs and practices concerning dead infants and children and those concerning dead adults. The ideology of the cult of the dead distinguishes among adults who die of natural causes, by violence, or as the result of accidents. The only kind of violent death recognized in the case of infants and children is that in which the former are sucked by the tlahuelpuchi, and this is an event which the people do not commemorate (see chapter 4). On the other hand, people do conceive of infants and children as dying in accidents. In the ofrenda, they are honored foremost as infants and children, but they are also remembered by a token offering especially associated with the category of those who die as the result of accidents. There are three symbolic or ritual differences between the special offerings to the various kinds of dead and the ensemble of all offerings as displayed in the completed ofrenda. First, while each offering separately and all offerings collectively are expressions of the cult of the dead and as such have the same symbolic end, the context and sequence in which they are offered endow them with different symbolic and ritual meaning. Second, the five kinds of special offerings are made in honor of and supplication to specific dead kinsmen of the living members of the nonresidential extended family (particularly those who have died within the year and during the past four years), while the totality of offerings is made primarily in remembrance and worship of all dead 217

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souls in heaven and purgatory. This differentiation is again shown by the fact that from October z8 until La Llorada, the ritual and ceremonial activities are centered on the various kinds of dead, and dead kinsmen are personally addressed, while after La Llorada, until the end of the Todos Santos cycle, the emphasis in ritual and ceremony shifts to all the dead souls in heaven and purgatory. Third, offerings especially associated with the five categories of dead souls are singled out for particular symbolic reasons, some of which will be discussed later. It was pointed out earlier (chapters 4 and 5) that, on each day from Octrober 28 to November 1, the household places special offerings on the ofrenda table corresponding to the kind of dead honored on each day, and subsequently these offerings are rearranged and find their final place in the structured and symmetrical complex of the completed ensemble. Households try to have the special offerings ready at hand on the day of the particular dead being honored, but if they don't, they make it a point to offer them ceremonially on the day of the formal arrangement of the ofrenda. The pan de muertos, for example, is seldom ready before October 30, so the bread offerings to those who die in accidents and those who die violently are not made until October 31 or November 1. In short, memorialization of dead kinsmen and of the souls in heaven and purgatory has both a definite sequence and a definite separation. Materially, the separation is seen in the formal arrangement of the ofrenda, while ritually the separation comes during La Llorada. The most common offerings for adults who died of natural causes are pan de muertos, cocoles, galletas de muerto, chacualole, tamales rellenos, and something special they liked to eat or drink such as pulque, or wear such as a coton. The ordinary household usually does not display more than three or four of these offerings. The special offerings for those who die in accidents and violently are pan de muertos, and capulin jam and enchiladas, or a jar of rainwater for the former, and a jar of blessed water and a bouquet of zoapatl for the latter. All three offerings for these two kinds of dead are displayed. As already suggested, the wheat dough of bread is the modern structural and symbolic equivalent of the pre-Hispanic tzoalli offered to the gods on many occasions throughout the year. Again, there is an interesting differentiation. Infants, children, and adults who died of natural causes are offered the classic hojaldras: small round ones for the first, medium-size round ones for the second, and large elliptical ones for the third. The pan de muertos for those who died in accidents are coronas and for those who died violently canastas or rosquillas (or, on the southwestern slopes of La Malintzi, hojaldras coloradas). It is evident 218

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that the offerings to adults who died naturally are selected essentially to please their taste and habits and to make their return to the world of the living as agreeable as possible. The same is true of the offerings for children, but those for the other three categories have additional and different objectives. The most common settings of accidental death in rural Tlaxcala are highways and water. For highway-related deaths, the offerings (beside pan de muertos) are a jar of capulin jam and a dish of enchiladas. In the world view of rural Tlaxcalans, the capulin tree and its products are omens of good fortune (that is why, for example, capulin leaves and twigs are used in limpias and other magical manipulations). Enchiladas are conceived of as the "lowliest" and most common of foods, available everywhere. Hence, these two offerings may be interpreted as an invocation of the protection, good luck, and nourishment that travellers must have for the successful completion of a journey—most importantly, the journey to their final destination. In cases of water-related deaths (drowning in a well, a barranca, or any other body of water, or being struck by lightning), the capulin jam and enchiladas are not offered. Instead, a jar of rainwater is offered, which can be interpreted as a symbol of the return to the master of this element, the rain god Tlaloc. For individuals who suffer violent deaths, the offerings (again in addition to the bread of the dead) are a jar of blessed water and a bouquet of zoapatl. Zoapatl is a known stimulant and pain deadener, and in the magical beliefs of rural Tlaxcalans it is a powerful conductor in communications with the supernatural, especially the pagan supernatu r a l . As such, it is used by tezitlazcs in their pleas to La Malintzi and El Cuatlapanga to bring the rain or to stop the hail. Zoapatl is also regarded as affording protection against hostile people and supernatu r a l . For example, a woman at childbirth is given an infusion of zoapatl leaves to deaden the pain, but parts of her body are also covered with zoapatl twigs for protection against evil spirits who may be lurking at this hazardous time. Since those who have died violently are believed to have thereby broken the natural order, they are felt to need as much protection as can be provided for them, and the blessed water and the zoapatl together symbolize that protection. 11 It should be stressed that throughout the Todos Santos cycle dead kinsmen are propitiated individually and blessed souls collectively, although no distinction is made between these two broad categories as objects of supplication. Moreover, the commemoration of dead kinsmen is centered almost exclusively on Todos Santos, while the cult of the dead generally is marked on many occasions during the year. Dead 219

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kinsmen are of course included in the category of all the blessed souls, but in the mind of the people they are nevertheless two distinct aspects of the cult of the dead. It seems reasonable to interpret the special offerings for dead kinsmen during Todos Santos as mnemonic devices in the personal, concrete fashion of magic, whereas the generalized cult of the dead, observed throughout the year, does not need such devices and functions instead in the impersonal, abstract mold of religion. Categories of Offerings to All the Dead Not all offerings to the dead entail symbolic meaning, nor will they all yield to socioreligious interpretation, and no attempt will be made to force meanings on them. Following, however, is a list of all the offerings that do seem to have symbolic interpretations. They are presented in the same order as they were presented in chapter 6. Pan de muertos is the single most important offering, and so it has been described and discussed several times already. Thus, it has been pointed out that its preparation and decoration involve the greatest ritual and physical care; that its various sizes and shapes are intimately associated with the different kinds of dead persons; and that it is the symbolic equivalent of the pre-Hispanic tzoalli offerings. But it has other meanings as well. First, the protuberances on the round pan de muertos are unmistakably the crossbones symbolizing the dead being honored. The significance of the decorations on the elliptical hojaldras is not so obvious, but the shape of these loaves, especially the rosquillas, resembles that of an elongated mountain, in the present case presumably La Malintzi, the comtemporary manifestation of Matlalcueyec, the pre-Hispanic goddess of water and rain and the female counterpart of Tlaloc. Given the intimate relationship between mountains and rain and the fertility overtones of both the pre-Hispanic and the contemporary cult of the dead, the hojaldras must be interpreted in part in this symbolic context, which is consistent with the fact that rosquillas are offered to those who died as the result of water-related causes. Furthermore, as the most important, homemade, lovingly prepared foodstuff offered to the dead, the pan de muertos symbolizes the enduring bond between the living and their supernatural intermediaries, as it does among humans in the exchange of personal ofrendas. Finally, pan de muertos constitutes the most significant means of "breaking bread" with the dead, a kind of prolonged communion extending throughout Todos Santos. In this light, it can be seen as an intensifying symbol of the relationship between the living and the dead. This intensifying and reinforcing property of pan de muertos again ev220

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idently obtains among humans, especially in the exchange of ofrendas among compadres and kinsmen and on a number of ritual occasions, such as pedimentos (formal requests) for social and religious sponsorships. To a considerable extent, what has been said about pan de muertos can also be said about other dough confections and sweet confections and cookies. These offerings appear to be functional-symbolic equivalents of the tzoalli offerings and votive elements to the pre-Hispanic gods and souls of the dead. As indicated earlier (see chapter z), tzoalli offerings were made in dozens of shapes and forms, from human and animal representations to mythical beings and inanimate objects. These offerings, like so many other components of rural Tlaxcalan religion, were passed through the screen of syncretism. Thus, many of the shapes and forms of these dough and sweet confections are of Spanish origin, while a few have retained essentially pre-Hispanic shapes and forms and were syncretized in the folk context of the region. The dough confections other than pan de muertos are good examples of the blending of pre-Hispanic and Spanish forms and shapes. Rosquetes, tortas, cuernos, and floreadas are types of dough confections of Spanish origin or were developed during the colonial period. Tlacotonales, animas, lisos, and cocoles are probably of pre-Hispanic origin, modified by the change from huauhtli to wheat as their main ingredient. It is impossible to ascertain whether there were tzoalli figurines that had the basic shape of, say tlacotonales and animas, but the general descriptions in the primary sources leave no doubt that the contemporary offerings derive from the tzoalli complex. It is possible to interpret Motolinia (1969:25) literally, and in that case the change from huauhtli to wheat took place within a generation after the conquest and undoubtedly brought with it Spanish shapes and forms. Thus, the suppression of huauhtli led to the acceptance of wheat and of Spanish breads and derivatives as the central offerings to the dead for Todos Santos, which the Indians internalized in opposition to the utilitarian use of corn and as an element of prestige by virtue of having been introduced by the conquerors. Be that as it may, one would expect that in this group of offerings those of pre-Hispanic origin would be the most pregnant with symbolic meaning, and this is the case at least with tlacotonales and animas. The stylized-heart shape of the tlacotonales is reminiscent of the pre-Hispanic belief that the soul, or spirit, was located in the heart. White tlacotonales are offered to infants and children and purplish ones to adults, symbolizing purity and vigor respectively. The different diamond shapes of animas are stylized versions of the male and female body, no doubt reminders to the returning souls of 221

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the shape they once had. It may be noted that two dough confections mentioned by Starr (1900:29) pan tochtl (bread in the shape of a rabbit) and pan maitl (bread in the shape of a hand), are no longer made on Todos Santos. Confections in the shape of animals, hands, feet, and so on, are still an important part of the ofrenda, but they are now made of other kinds of dough or of crystallized sugar. Sweet confections and cookies are a kind of frosting on the cake in the symbolic and physical structure of the ofrenda: they have considerable ritual and religious meaning but they are also decorative. Sugar skulls are always offered to the dead, small and medium undecorated ones for infants and children and large garishly decorated ones for adults. They are a good illustration of the difficulties in determining the functional, structural, and symbolic provenance of elements in a syncretic situation. At first glance, sugar skulls appear to be a survival from pre-Hispanic times, perhaps having to do with the human skulls that were kept as trophies by households or telpochcallis (men's houses) and offered to or displayed in honor of a particular god at certain festivals (Duran 1967, vol. 1:127). But the human skull as a symbol of death has a long history in Christendom, and it could equally well be that the sugar skulls in the ofrenda are of Catholic origin. What seems most likely is that they represent a case of convergence. The same can be said about gallitos de pepita, dulces de azucar, and galletas de muerto: their constituent elements are both pre-Hispanic and Spanish, reminiscent of some aspects of the tzoalli complex, but with shapes in the Spanish pastry tradition. What all these offerings have in common is that they constitute a sort of dessert after a hearty meal, and so they may be seen as sweets with which the living ingratiate themselves with the dead. Finally, galletas cuatas deserve special mention. Human, animal, and vegetable twinning is regarded as an unlucky event and an omen of further bad luck to come. In pre-Hispanic times, Montolinia (1903:125) says, one human twin was put to death, and there are indications that, until perhaps the end of the nineteenth century, the practice continued in rural Tlaxcala of putting the "bad" twin to death (see Nutini and Roberts, forthcoming). Today, when human twins are born they require limpias and other rites to be performed on all concerned; and when people find a twin fruit or vegetable, they must contract a compadrazgo relationship as a counteracting measure. The twin fruit or vegetable is given to the padrinos, who dress it up to resemble a twin doll and return it to the person who found it; then, after a simple ceremony, it is placed on the family altar. The galletas cuatas are symbolic equivalents of these twin dolls. They are included in the ofrenda when twins have been born within the year or when any member of the 222

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household has found a twin fruit or vegetable during the same period of time. Several informants said that galletas cuatas were meant to be insurance against future twinning, but above all they are reminders to the souls in heaven and purgatory to protect the people of the household against the action of the bad twin and, by extension, against the evil eye. Candied fruits, preserves, and gelatins constitute the fruits and cheeses of the symbolic banquet for the returning souls. Of the fruits and other ingredients of these offerings, the majority are of Old World origin. The only New World fruits represented are capulin, tejocote, guava, and pineapple. It should be remembered that many Old World cultigens, particularly fruit trees, were introduced into the Central Mexican highlands during the sixteenth century, and they rather quickly became part of the Indian household economy. Among the prepared offerings in this category, only tacha and chacualole appear to be of Indian origin; the rest are of Spanish-Mexican origin, presumably diffused to the Indian communities from urban areas. The cooked dishes and sauces are the main course of the banquet for the returning souls. Except for the pan de muertos, their preparation takes the most money, time, and care, for the household seeks to make them as delectable as if they were intended for human consumption during important social occasions. Of these cooked dishes, only mole prieto appears to be of pre-Hispanic origin. Some of the concoctions described in Sahagun (1956) and Duran (1967) resemble the mole sauce, but pork did not become a meat ingredient until after the conquest (in pre-Hispanic times, the main meat ingredient presumably was deer). Mole de huajolote, despite the Tlaxcalans' claim that it is their own recipe, was probably an urban culinary invention that spread through the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley during the colonial period. Mole de pipian, chicharron en salsa verde, and pescado con torta de habas are also probably of urban origin. The serving of fish and broad-bean patties is an old Spanish custom associated with fasting and Holy Week.12 In turn, it is undoubtedly the association of fish with Holy Week and thus with death that made this dish find its way into the ofrenda of Todos Santos. The symbolic importance of cooked dishes as offerings to the returning souls can be gauged by the talk that goes on when the sauces are being prepared. Household members verbalize their concern about the quality of the food, whether it will be liked by the returning souls, and how the returning souls will enjoy the feast. The people often eat nonspoiled edibles after the ofrenda is dismantled, but they would be very reluctant to eat any of the cooked dishes, such is the respect they have 223

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for them as a way of pleasing the returning souls. If pan de muertos is the symbol of communion binding the living and the dead, cooked dishes are the symbol of the transient union of the living and the dead in a hearty commensal banquet. The antojitos are the appetizers of the banquet. They are prepared to delight the returning souls and to whet their appetite before the main course, or perhaps, as in the world of the living, they represent a snack for the returning souls before they get down to the serious business of consuming the sumptuous meal. The use of this category of offerings as special treats for the various kinds of dead has been discussed, but a few additional remarks may be made. Although the main ingredient of these treats is corn meal or corn dough, they are not all of Indian origin. Tamales are unquestionably of pre-Hispanic Indian origin, and so perhaps are tlatlapas and memelas. The remaining antojitos are probably Mestizo culinary inventions that have been incorporated into the repertoire of Indian cooking. In the urban context, antojitos are essentially snacks, but not so in the rural environment. Rather, the treats in this category are mostly served on two kinds of occasions: ritual or ceremonial meals of secondary importance, such as breakfasts associated with several events in the religious and social annual cycles, wakes, and evening repasts; and following social and religious pedimentos, entregas (the formal transfer of images and religious implements), and the conclusion of an agreement. They are also sometimes served at ceremonial banquets, but incidental to the main course. The consumption of treats at these social and religious rites and ceremonies signifies or symbolizes commensality, thanksgiving, or the conclusion of a job well done. It is these particular meanings that antojitos have in the ofrenda, in addition, of course, to the pleasures that they connote for specific dead souls. Fruit and vegetable offerings, oddly enough, are not viewed as part of the food to be eaten by the returning souls. Instead, they must be interpreted either as efforts for the intensification of the agricultural cycle or as personal supplications partly directed to the same end. Their ostensible function in the ofrenda is decorative and to give it body and shape, for they are probably as numerous and bulky as pan de muertos and dough confections. There are no clear explanations for the particular fruits and vegetables selected. The only locally grown ones are pears, nopalitos, potatoes, beans, and occasionally a few scrawny oranges. Most of the fruits and vegetables are grown in the midlands and lowlands; they are generally regarded as festive and decorative and are used on many ritual occasions throughout the year, such as pedimentos, agradecimientos (formal offers of thanksgiving), and personal 224

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ofrendas. Interestingly, they are almost equally divided between Old World and New World cultigens. Those that are foreign to the region tend to be regarded as higher in quality and therefore especially worthy of ritual and ceremonial use. Except for soursops, whose association with the final destination of dead infants was discussed above, fruits and vegetables do not appear to be offered in connection with the souls of any particular kinds of dead persons, nor are they offered to individual souls of the dead. In the category of flowers and plants, the ritual and symbolic meanings of zempoalxochitl, amaranth, baby's breath, and zoapatl have been mentioned. Zempoalxochitl has been associated with death since pre-Hispanic times. The reasons for this are unknown, but zempoalxochitl flowers seem to inspire a sense of awe and a magical ambiance. They are used not only for Todos Santos but also for a number of other ritual occasions related to death (Holy Week, for example). In the ofrenda and in the decorations on the graves for Todos Santos, zempoalxochitl stands generically for all the souls in heaven and purgatory, but individually it stands for dead adults only. That is, it or other colored flowers are required to honor dead adults, while white flowers alone are offered to infants and children (the same kind of difference is found in many other culture areas). Amaranth was also extensively used in pre-Hispanic times throughout the Central Mexican highlands. Although in rural Tlaxcala it is now on its way to disappearance, it has essentially retained the three basic uses that it had before the conquest: the making of alegrias from its seeds, the decorations and adornments made from its flowers, and the colorings made from the dried and ground flowers. Alegrias are a survival of tzoalli offerings, but they are not included in the ofrenda in rural Tlaxcala, although they are in rural communities in the Valley of Mexico and in urban ofrendas in the cities of Puebla, Atlixco, and Texmelucan. (They continue to be used in rural Tlaxcala in other rituals; see chapter 2,.) The use of the ground flowers of moco de pavo to color the hojaldras coloradas, tlacotonales, and other dough confections for the ofrenda remains quite common. So deep-seated is the association of amaranth flowers with death, sacrifice, and violence that until the late 1930s it was universally used for all ritual occasions related to these aspects of religion, such as Holy Week, the cult of the dead, and the prevention of blood-sucking witchcraft. The magico-religious symbolism of amaranth is beautifully exemplified by the purplish-colored tlacotonales, which conjures up, at least for this obvserver, the bloody hearts of pre-Hispanic sacrificial victims. Baby's breath, or nube, is the flower most closely associated with 225

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dead infants and children. The English name of this flower aptly conveys the qualities of innocence and etherealness that rural Tlaxcalans attach to this flower, the very qualities that make infants and children such effective protectors and intermediaries on behalf of the living. Zoapatl, regarded as a good medium of communication with dead souls, is displayed in the ofrenda primarily to remind them to keep an eye on malevolent spirits and pagan supernaturals and to protect members of the households against their machinations. Wildflowers are included in the ofrenda because they grow on the slopes of La Malintzi and so are regarded as las naguas de la Senora Malintzi (the skirts of the Lady Malintzi), that is, the dress of the anthropomorphic owner of the mountain; they are thus related to the fertility cult associated with the mountain. Ocoxochitl, another plant offering, is also a symbol of fertility, especially, for some reason, in conjunction with the reproduction of domestic animals. The liquids and liquors offered to the dead for Todos Santos include everything that the people themselves drink except beer and soft drinks. Pulque, bottled liquor, and other alcoholic beverages are served to adults as "liquid antojitos." Milk and honey are given to infants and children. Running water, blessed water, and rainwater represent the profane, the sacred, and the pragmatic. Collectively, the offerings of water remind the souls in heaven and purgatory to send enough rain for making the crops grow and for drinking and washing, and to intercede before the higher supernaturals for a smooth and prosperous ritual and ceremonial calendar for the coming year. In addition, blessed water is a subject-directed symbol designed to intensify good relationships with the supernaturals, both Catholic and pagan, not to further sanctify the souls in heaven or to help those who are in purgatory endure their pain. In other words, the people are concerned about a propitious social milieu for the best discharge of the mayordomia system, the ayuntamiento religioso, and the cult of the saints in general, the avenues of collective communication with Catholic supernaturals as the main purveyors of protection and well-being.13 Clothing and utilitarian implements, like several other offerings, are basically devices to both remind and entreat the returning souls of the dead to look kindly upon the living and to do their job well, in return for all the effort, love, and care that have been lavished on their return to make it pleasurable. This attitude is the epitome of the quid pro quo that governs the human-supernatural relationship in every domain of the folk religion of rural Tlaxcala. This pragmatic contract is, of course, rarely verbalized. Rather, the people approach the supernaturals humbly, seemingly accepting the fact that it is entirely up to the 226

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supernatural to grant or not to grant the supplication. But the belief in the quid pro quo is always there latently. On occasion, usually in times of stress when it is realized that supernatural aid is not forthcoming, the belief is articulated, sometimes bitterly and in terms that approach a rejection of the human-supernatural covenant as a set of rights, obligations, and expectations. 14 Almost all the decorations and adornments in the ofrenda are strictly utilitarian and are not interesting symbolically or semantically. The only exceptions are garlands and wreaths made of pine branches and ocoxochitl. The animal fertility associated with ocoxochitl is sometimes extended to humans. Barren women and those who want to get pregnant quickly make a five- or six-inch wreath of ocoxochitl and place it at the back of the console or bracket-shelf of the retable for Todos Santos as an offering to the Virgin and to the child Jesus. In the most traditional communities, ocoxochitl wreaths are also brought to a tezitlazc who, for a fee, takes it to La Malintzi and offers it to the tutelary owner of the mountain in particularly propitious spots known only to him. La Malintzi, as the continuation of the old goddess Matlalcueyec, is not only associated with fertility but is also regarded by traditional rural Tlaxcalans as a protectress of the people, a kind of cosmic overseer, always willing to help and grant boons, if properly propitiated. In this case, the tezitlazc is the intermediary, for he is supposed to have compacts with La Malintzi and El Cuatlapanga, both of whom are associated with rain and fertility. Thus, women who want to become pregnant seek the help of both Catholic and pagan supernaturals. The pine tree and its products (resin, foliage, and cones), on the other hand, are associated with purification and the warding off of evil spirits. Just as noises are supposed to ward off evil spirits, so do the sweet smells of pine. What is especially interesting about the cult paraphernalia and containers in the ofrenda is not their symbolic meanings but the precise differences in the way they are used and handled. As has been noted before, this is a theme that pervades the ritual and ceremonial life of rural Tlaxcalans: there are prescribed ways to use and handle certain objects, and deviations from these prescriptions can thwart the intended aim of the rite or ceremony. Thus, each offering requiring a container must be displayed either in a china dish or in an earthenware dish or bowl. Black candlesticks are to be displayed for dead adults, while dead infants and children require white or pink-and-blue candlesticks. Copalcaxitls must always be used to burn copal and censers for burning incense. Pulque, milk, and different kinds of water must be offered in 227

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crockery jars or glasses, and all other liquids except bottled liquors in earthenware containers. Individual offerings of cooked dishes must be placed on china plates, except mole prieto, which is always placed on earthenware bowls. Ofrendas de primer muerto, or other offerings that require basketry containers, must be chiquihuites, while personal ofrenda exchanges may be offered in canastas. Pictures and images of Catholic supernaturals are not so much a part of the ofrenda as of its religious context, and their symbolism and iconography must ultimately be referred to global folk Catholicism. Although it is clear that some Catholic supernaturals are associated with the cult of the dead, it would require a minute analysis of ethnohistorical theology to learn, for example, why Our Lady of Carmel is the patron saint of purgatory and Our Lady of Light the rescuer or ransomer of souls from purgatory. In general, however, the representations of Catholic supernaturals which "frame" the ofrenda indicate that they are the most venerated in the region. Symbolically, this core of the rural Tlaxcalan pantheon protects and vouches for the rites and ceremonies centered on the ofrenda during Todos Santos. This is the same function that is performed by the permanent household altar throughout the year with respect to the family's ritual and ceremonial activity. The representations of souls in purgatory are the collective symbols of all dead infants, children, and adults, wherever they are in the afterlife. Cruces de animas were, until the turn of the century, found in all households, inscribed with the names of dead members of the household. Cruces de parada, cruces de ataud, and cruces de parada y bendicion are associated with the ofrenda and with the cult of the dead in general, because the cross is both a sign of protection and a fertility symbol. In the folk Catholicism of rural Tlaxcala, and undoubtedly in many other regions of Mesoamerica, the cross is brought into play to help the crops mature, to ask for rain, and to stop hail, and on a number of occasions having to do with fertility and growth. The category of miscellaneous objects obviously has no common symbolic theme. The first fruits of corn are reminders to the returning souls that they are regarded as protectors and helpers in the maturation of the crops. White and blue tortillas are a cultural extension of corn and symbolically plead for abundant food in the household in the coming year. The magical properties of pre-Hispanic stone idols, clay figurines, and pottery have already been discussed, and it need only be added here that they function symbolically as intensifiers of all the offerings in the ofrenda. They are also a tangible link with the past, although rural Tlaxcalans generally know little about pre-Hispanic times except what they have learned in books. But some people are aware 228

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that many beliefs and practices are "strange," different from what is current in the local culture, and discriminating individuals attribute them to los antiguos—the people who lived long ago, before the Spaniards came. Pre-Hispanic artifacts, then, are manifestly displayed in honor of these ancestors. To sum up, the manifest and latent purposes of the offerings to the dead are: to please them; to remind them of their previous earthly existence; to predispose them favorably toward the living, individually and collectively; to make them aware of the supplications of the living; to entreat them to be efficient as intermediaries, protectors, and dispensers of good things to the living; and to emphasize to them the covenant that binds the living and the dead. The offerings function as mnemonic devices, sympathetic bribes, and homeostatic reminders directed to the souls of the dead in order to achieve the foregoing aims. The Ofrenda as a Whole The ofrenda, and the milieu in which it is set up, is more than the sum of its component parts. It is also a symbolic ensemble that the household, consciously or unconsciously, manipulates, ostensibly to achieve certain goals by the propitiation and supplication of the dead. This is not to say that the people are aware of symbolic constructions but rather that the symbols may be interpreted as the structural validation of beliefs and ideology. The impression given by the classic ofrenda is that of a low mountain, rising from the plains to its peak. This suggests the primary symbolic meaning of the ensemble. The main objectives of the ofrenda are fertility, renewal, and intensification of the agricultural cycle in particular and of the life cycle in general. The souls of the dead function as intermediaries between man and the supernaturals in bringing about these objectives. Despite the fact that the ofrenda, as well as most other aspects of Todos Santos, is set in terms of Catholic supernaturalism, the propitiation and supplication are primarily directed not to Catholic but rather to pagan supernaturals. The mountain is a domain that was intimately associated with rain, fertility, and the agricultural cycle in the magic and religion of pre-Hispanic polytheism, and the ofrenda can therefore be seen as a compound symbol of the supernatural owners of the two most prominent Tlaxcalan promontories, La Malintzi and El Cuatlapanga, who have also traditionally been regarded as the masters of the natural elements. La Malintzi is the continuation of the goddess Matlalcueyec and El Cuatlapanga is the functional equivalent of Tlaloc, both pre-Hispanic supernaturals associated with rain and the 229

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natural elements. It is to them that the ofrenda is offered symbolically, although the returning souls of the dead are its immediate, direct beneficiaries and honorees. One could also say that the individual offerings in the ensemble are symbolic manifestations of the cult of the dead, while the ofrenda as a whole is the symbolic representation of a syncretic supernatural complex, in which pagan elements predominate. This interpretation is consistent with the expressions applied to La Malintzi and El Cuatlapanga. When it rains hard, the people say that "La Malintzi esta haciendo de las aguas" (is urinating); when it hails, "El Cuatlapanga esta enojado" (is angry); when the rains come, "La Malintzi se viste con su titixtle nuevo" (is dressed up in her Sunday best); when clouds appear on top of El Cuatlapanga, he is said to be "tramando algo" (plotting something). El Cuatlapanga (unlike La Malintzi) has a Catholic counterpart, San Lorenzo, the patron saint of rain (and San Lorenzo is also the Spanish name used for El Cuatlapanga), and this syncretic trio plays an important role in the lives of rural Tlaxcalans, in connection with agriculture and with the people's relationship to the natural environment. Despite the transformation that rural Tlaxcala has been undergoing since the turn of the century, the lure of the mountains and their supernatural owners has remained fairly strong, even among the most secularized sector of the population. The people conceive of La Malintzi and El Cuatlapanga as being relatively close to them, approachable, and not hard to please. The former is regarded as essentially benevolent, predisposed to help when properly propitiated, and a sort of cosmic overseer of the moral order; the latter is regarded as capricious, vengeful, and undependable, but capable of helping human beings if shown proper respect. El Cuatlapanga is the structural and functional equivalent of a Catholic supernatural, for some of the saints are also regarded as capricious and undependable. This is the case, for example, with San Lorenzo, San Isidro, and San Miguel, who are associated with rain and fertility. Similarly, the saints associated with such equally unpredictable events as finding lost objects (San Judas) orxuring sick people (San Antonio, San Martin, and Santa Ana), are also thought of as being capricious and undependable. Interestingly, however, Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary are always conceived of as trustworthy in every respect, regardless of unfulfilled mandas and nongranted supplications. In this respect, La Malintzi has the same supernatural configuration as the Virgin Mary. A surprising fact about this Catholic-pagan conglomeration is that La Malintzi, not Jesus Christ or the Virgin Mary, is the clearest supernatural personage in the mind of rural Tlaxcalan traditionalists. De230

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spite the fact that the syncretic synthesis of local folk religion is much more Catholic than pagan, La Malintzi is theologically, ritually, and ceremonially conceived in more intimate, human, and natural terms than any of the dozens of Christs, Virgins, and saints in the Catholic pantheon. Tlaxcalans do know, of course, about the life of Christ, the role of the Virgin, the personality of some of the saints, and what all these supernaturals represent in the practice of folk Catholicism. But La Malintzi, in a strange, magical sort of way, is closer and more tangible to them than the rather remote and formal supernaturals to whom they pray in church and in the privacy of their homes. La Malintzi is not worshipped in the sense that Catholic supernaturals are, but she is always latently present in the magico-religious world of traditionalists, and when disaster strikes (a sudden death, a crop loss, a great individual or collective disappointment), they are more likely to turn to her than to any other supernatural, Catholic or pagan. On such occasions, the people not only think of La Malintzi and commend themselves to her, but they may even pray to her, perform rites in her honor, and avail themselves of the services of a tezitlazc to plead with her on their behalf. (A generation ago, when I was beginning my fieldwork in Tlaxcala, seven infants in a small community died in one night as the result of having been sucked by the tlahuelpuchi. The people became terrified, and the first thing they did was to invoke La Malintzi, while Catholic supernaturals were conspicuous by their absence.) The sudden disappearance of magic and religious polytheistic elements from rural Tlaxcalan religion, after centuries of persistence, is an intriguing problem that needs investigation. There is considerable evidence (see Murphy and Stephens 1954) that, in several areas of northern Europe, Christianity and Indo-European polytheism syncretized, and many beliefs and practices of the latter survived for hundreds of years, until they too suddenly began to disappear, roughly between A. D. 600 and 1100, and shortly afterward, Christian orthodoxy appears to have rather quickly coalesced. This is more or less what has happened in Tlaxcala and undoubtedly in many other regions of Mesoamerica. From the middle of the sixteenth century until the beginning of the twentieth, many pre-Hispanic elements, which had found a niche in the Catholic matrix and had functioned smoothly in that context, began to disappear, and they are now found as only vestigial survivals. An exploration of this problem would have benefited greatly from a comparative account of the syncretic transformations undergone by Christianity vis-a-vis the variants of Indo-European polytheism and other magico-religious systems. Unfortunately, however, there is little information on the subject, as historians and religious scholars have been 231

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concerned primarily with the formal evolution of Christianity during the first millenium of its existence, almost completely disregarding the folk beliefs and practices of most of Christendom. Perhaps the best way to illustrate the ideological, ritual, and symbolic aspects of La Malintzi, is by means of a legend. It was reported by Starr (1900:28), and I recorded it at least thirty times in several variant forms. In most of these forms, the main supernatural actor is La Malintzi, not the returning souls of the dead, as in Starr's version. The following variant is the most widespread; it was recorded thirteen times. There was once in Cuauhtenco [San Felipe] a household head who adamantly refused to set up even a token ofrenda for the celebration of the day of the dead. It is true that he was poor, but everyone knew that he could at least afford to bake a few loaves of bread for this sacred occasion. His family pleaded with him to desist from such folly, speaking of the unpleasant consequences that could befall him and all members of the household. Many kinsmen and compadres tried to convince him that he was in great error, that he would suffer for it by losing what little he had, and more important, people would no longer trust him or regard him as one of their own. All to no avail; he persisted in his folly, maintaining that it was a waste of time and money to prepare food, make presents, and decorate the house for the returning souls of the dead. He stated flatly that he did not believe in any of it, and that it was so much nonsense. On November 2, he went to the mountain to gather wood, when he had walked up to the midslopes of the mountain, he suddenly fell into a deep hole that had never been there. For hours, he tried unsuccessfully to get out, and he spent the night shivering with cold. Early the next morning, a beautiful lady [La Malintzi] dressed in a white blouse [huipil] and blue skirt [titixtle], and accompanied by seven white lions [leones in the Spanish versions, ocelotli in the Nahuatl versions], passed by and asked him why he was trapped in the hole. The man said that he did not know, that he had fallen in by accident, and asked her to help him get out of the hole. The lady pretended not to have heard him and continued on her way. The lady passed by for two consecutive days and the same conversation took place. On the fourth day, the man had almost passed out for lack of water and food, and it finally occurred to him, when the lady asked him why he had fallen into the hole, to say that it was perhaps because he had not set up an ofrenda and had doubted that the souls 232

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of the dead return to this world to enjoy the offerings and partake of the feast in their honor. The lady stopped and told him that that was exactly what she wanted to hear. She told three of her lions to pull him out of the hole and give him food and water. Before sending him home, the lady admonished him in the following fashion: "You must always honor your dead to the best of your possibilities, especially when they return to visit you. They are my servants, and by honoring them you honor me. They plead your causes before me, they ask me favors on your behalf, and they make me cry for joy and make me dress in my finery for your happiness and well-being. Go home and never forget what I have told you." Dazed and astonished, the man returned to his house, and from that day onward he turned into a new man. His fortune improved, and he became rich and a great advocate of the cult of the dead. His ofrenda for Todos Santos was a sight to behold, and people came to admire it and copy it from many neighboring communities. In the variations of this legend, the man's transgression was failure or procrastination in contracting required compadrazgo relationships; refusal to sponsor a mayordomia when elected or nominated to the post; failure to carry out duties in the ayuntamiento religioso; and lack of enthusiasm for, or deficiency in, performing the functions and activities of the cult of the saints. However, in thirteen out of the thirty-odd variations, the offense was concerned with the cult of the dead, an indication of the importance of this aspect of the folk religion. In another set of twenty-five legends that I have collected, the upholder of the socioreligious order is either El Cuatlapanga (nine instances) or various community patron saints (San Bernardino, San Miguel, San Juan Bautista, San Felipe de Jesus, and San Francisco). In all of these cases, the legend embodies central themes of rural Tlaxcalan folk religion: Humans and the supernaturals are bound by a contract; humans must perform rites, ceremonies, and other activities in honor of the supernaturals, and in return, the latter must grant the pleadings and supplications of the former; individuals and the collectivity must cooperate in the worship and propitiation of the supernaturals, and dilatoriness or lack of participation by individuals detracts from the capital of good will accumulated on behalf of the community. In other variants of the legend, the companions of La Malintzi are dogs rather than lions, and the culprit, instead of falling in a hole, is immobilized by the branch of a tree or is lost in a deep ravine or in a cave. But for present purposes, the most significant part of the narrative 233

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in the legend is what La Malintzi tells the culprit as part of her admonition: "they make me cry for joy and make me dress in my finery for your happiness and well-being" (me hacen Uorar de gusto y me visten de gala para tu alegria y bienestar). This is a clear indication that the ultimate symbolic honoree of the ofrenda as a whole is La Malintzi (and, by extension, other, analogous supernaturals). It may also be noted that, while individual offerings in the ofrenda are usually directed to the souls of the dead, even some of these—for example, fruits and vegetables, the different kinds of water, wildflowers, and the first ears of corn—may be appropriately regarded as directed to the pagan and Catholic supernaturals associated with fertility and the agricultural cycle. During the period of Todos Santos, from October z8 until November 4, the household chapel or oratory—what has been called here the "sacred precinct"—becomes the microcosm of the cult of the dead and the symbolic abode of the souls returning from heaven and purgatory. The physical and directional structuring of the ofrenda within the sacred precinct, as well as several of the rites and ceremonies that take place during Todos Santos, are of pre-Hispanic origin. The northern orientation of the family or ofrenda altar is a vestigial reminiscence of the location of the pre-Hispanic Mictlan, where those who died of natural causes went to reside and became acolytes of Mictlantecutli, the lord of this infraworld. The alignment of the copalcaxitls and candlesticks of the ofrenda in the south-north and east-west directions is also of pre-Hispanic origin. During La Despedida (see chapter 5), the ofrenda becomes the center of the world, the hub of existence, in which the living and the dead are gathered to say good-bye to each other until the next cycle. Facing north, the officiant, on behalf of the entire household, sends the dead on their way and entreats them to return and be united again with those in this world. From this perspective, the ofrenda is a symbol of unity, renewal, and intensification, a visible manifestation of the belief that the living and the dead constitute a single world of existence. This interpretation has emphasized the fertility and intensification aspects of the ofrenda in terms of the social group and a supernatural complex mediated by the souls of the dead—the basic triad of rural Tlaxcalan folk religion. An understanding of the ofrenda illuminates the position of the cult of the dead in the overall structure of the religion. The cult of the dead, like rural Tlaxcalan folk religion generally, departs significantly from both the structure and the ideology of orthodox Catholicism. It contains a number of pre-Hispanic components, but also several elements that seem to be unrealized ideals of Catholi234

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cism. In other words, Catholicism itself contains elements that lead to folk practices quite different from what pure theology might demand. Thus, it is quite possible that the cult of the dead and the generally pragmatic nature of rural Tlaxcalan folk religion are not very different from what one might find in, say, Sicilian or Andalusian folk religion. The symbolic analysis presented in this chapter has also served as a vehicle to demonstrate the principles underlying the nature of the supernatural and the mechanisms that make traditional rural Tlaxcalan folk religion function smoothly and to show how a monistic ideological system has efficacy and at the same time regulates the structural discharge of a pluralistic system dichotomized into Catholic and pagan.

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·8· THE DECORATION OF THE GRAVES IN THE CEMETERY; EXPRESSIVE DISPLAY AND SYMBOLIC MEANING

The decoration of the graves in the cemetery for Todos Santos is principally part of the private, household-centered cult of the dead, though it does have public aspects: the community as a whole takes pride in the decoration of the graves and assumes collective credit for the presentation of the cemetery as a whole, and some communities put a great deal of effort into preparing and arranging the decorations and take pains to display them to visitors and explain their details. Indeed, as a public display, the decoration of the graves competes with the household ofrenda as a tourist attraction. However, in terms of effort, care, and symbolic importance, rural Tlaxcalans put the decoration of the graves second to the composition of the ofrenda in the household. The explanation, evidently, is that, unlike the ofrenda, the rites honoring the dead in the cemetery seem to have no pre-Hispanic antecedents, or at least none that are peculiarly rural Tlaxcalan. They appear mostly to be outright impositions from Spanish Catholicism and are shared with many other folk religions in Mesoamerica. Nonetheless, the decoration of the graves and the accompanying activities have a dramatically expressive content that must be explored.

T H E CEMETERY SETTING

The only time during Todos Santos when the entire community gravitates toward the cemetery is from the morning to the late afternoon of November 2. Even the night before, during La Llorada, more people are attendant upon the ofrenda than are present in the cemetery. The people believe that, although the returning souls of the dead may be present anywhere in the community, they are not particularly fond of the cemetery and prefer to stay close to their living kinsmen and the ofrenda. One informant said, rather jocularly but seriously in intent: "jY porque habian de volver los muertos al cementerio, donde estan sus huesos ya hechos polvo? Cuando me muera y regrese a visitar a mis parientes en casa, solo me preocupare en gozar de todas las golosinas y buenas cosas en la ofrenda." (And why should the dead return to the cemetery, where their bones lie already converted into dust? When I die 236

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and return to visit my household kinsmen, I will only worry about enjoying the delicacies and good things in the ofrenda.) Organization and Arrangement of the Cemetery The atrium of the church, its extension as a cemetery, and (since the middle of the twentieth century) the separate cemeteries have always been under the jurisdiction of the local religious hierarchy. The merino and the fiscales, or their equivalents, administer the cemetery, assign space for graves and mausoleums, and in general control and manage all activities associated with places of burial. On two occasions in the annual cycle, Todos Santos and Holy Week, the cemetery becomes a focus of communal activity. The merino and his assistants (topiles) prepare, clean, and sometimes even decorate the cemetery for the scheduled rites and ceremonies. During the rest of the year, the cemetery is allowed to remain unkempt, a tangle of weeds and refuse. By the time of Todos Santos, the disarray is often so extreme that the merino and topiles are not enough to get the cemetery ready. In such cases, a faena is called. Before labor migration became so widespread in rural Tlaxcala, the faena worked well; it was the duty of every able-bodied man in the community to work at a variety of community tasks several days of the year. Nowadays, it is difficult to get a work crew for a faena together in many communities, and the merino and topiles depend mostly on their compadres and kinsmen. Where a faena is still organized to prepare the cemetery for Todos Santos, the communal spirit is heightened by the many people who bring food to the men working in it. Most rural Tlaxcalan communities have buried their dead both in the atrium and in the cemetery. Only in the newest settlements, usually established during this century, are there no graves in the atrium. Indeed, in some of them, there is no church, and hence no atrium. In such cases, the new settlements are actually extensions of the ancestral community from which they sprang, and for burial and other religious purposes the former continue to depend on the latter. In view of this situation, the great majority of rural Tlaxcalan communities decorate the graves and arrange both the atrium and the cemetery for Todos Santos. There are no ritual, ceremonial, or organizational differences between these two types of burial places, either for Todos Santos or for other occasions, but there are other kinds of differences. First, the atrium in most communities is kept clean and tidy year-round, while the cemetery is not, so that the atrium has a neater and more structured appearance than does the cemetery when the graves are profusely decorated with flowers. Moreover, many of the graves in atriums are marked by 237

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elaborate traditional tombstones of tile, brick, and stone, whereas this is not so much the case in the newer cemeteries. Altogether, atriums, with their greater architectual elaboration, the background of an old church, and a more decorated ambiance, give the impression of a more solemn and permanent abode for the remains of mortals than do cemeteries, with their flat and sometimes rather stark look. Finally, the graves in atriums are much older than those in cemeteries. About a hundred churches and chapels had been built in rural Tlaxcala by the end of the sixteenth century. None of these structures has survived intact until the present, except the open chapel in San Esteban Tizatlan (completed before 1540), but in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries they were replaced by other church structures, most of which are still standing relatively untouched and in a good state of repair. These second-generation churches were almost invariably built on the same spots as their predecessors and incorporated the latters' atriums. 1 This is partly confirmed by tombstones in these atriums; three of them have dates in the last decade of the sixteenth century, several in the seventeenth century, and many in the eighteenth century. The complex of church-atrium and public square has always been the physical and social center of local folk religion, in which the cult of the dead has always played a prominent role. Indeed, it is with the appearance of cemeteries as burial places separate from atriums that the process of modernization of the cult of the dead appears to have started in rural Tlaxcala. A portion of the alms collected weekly by the fiscales from every household in the community is set aside for repairs and improvements of the cemetery, mostly for the Todos Santos celebration. The amount is usually not enough, however, and the ayuntamiento religioso may ask the officers of the mayordomias concerned with various aspects of the cult of the dead to make additional contributions. The money is generally used for the embellishment of the cemetery rather than for improvements of permanent structures. The fund is administered by the merino and the mayordomos of the mayordomias involved, and this committee is also responsible for organizing the activities in the cemetery on Todos Santos. Beginning shortly before October 28, it keeps a close watch on the cleaning and preparation of the cemetery, the decoration of the entrance, and the hanging of zempoalxochitl garlands on the enclosing walls. For a week or so before November 2, there is always a member of the committee on duty at the cemetery for anything that may arise in connection with the preparation for the celebration. The same committee is in charge of coordinating the events of La Llorada and the decoration of the graves the following day. For La 238

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Llorada, they provide (formerly as an obligation of their office, nowadays on a voluntary basis) wood, food, and drink, in addition to what those in attendance may bring themselves. Two or three days before November i, members of the committee visit most of the households in the community and invite and urge people to attend La Llorada. The mayordomos of the main mayordomias concerned with the cult of the dead are the officiants during the rites of La Llorada, and they take turns in making exhortations to the returning souls. On November z, the committee is present at the cemetery to make sure that the arrangement and decoration of the graves proceed in a fairly efficient and orderly fashion—a taxing endeavor, given the throngs of people that converge upon the cemetery from morning to late afternoon. Some of the most enterprising mayordomos, usually those vying for higher religious offices, provide water, containers, and implements to facilitate the task of decorating the graves. At dusk, the activity in the cemetery ends, the mayordomos and the merino close the cemetery, and no further significant community events take place there until Holy Week. The flowers are left to wither and the cemetery slowly acquires its normal unkempt look, which it retains until Palm Sunday. Types of Entombment It has been the traditional practice in rural Tlaxcala to assign a plot of land in the cemetery to a nuclear or nonresidential extended family at no cost. These plots remained in the same family for generations, and even today most plots are held by extended families. However, since about 1940, plots have had to be purchased for a small cost, the revenue being used for the improvement and upkeep of the cemetery. Until a generation ago, it was common for a family to have three graves, side by side, in which all their members were buried; as the graves filled, they occasionally had to be emptied of bones and wood in order to make room for more dead. Sometimes, when two people died within a year or two of each other, the coffins might be set one on top of the other. Nowadays, people prefer to bury their dead individually, and this is putting a strain on the capacity of the cemeteries. There are four major types of entombment in rural Tlaxcala: simple graves, graves with tombstones, niched graves, and mausoleums. The ordinary cemetery or atrium is a melange of all four types, but 75 or 80 percent of them are simple graves. Tombstone graves are the oldest dated type, while niched graves and mausoleum-like structures go back to about the middle of the seventeenth century. The most elaborate and complex cemeteries are located in the cabaceras de doctrina (parochial 239

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headtowns) established during the first half of the seventeenth century (for example, San Luis Teolocholco, Santa Cruz Tlaxcala, and Santa Ines Zacatelco), and the least elaborate ones are found in the newest communities, where the great majority of entombments are simple graves. Not every community or settlement has its own cemetery. In about seventy-five communities, perhaps 60 percent of those established after the middle of the nineteenth century, the dead are buried in the cemeteries of the headtowns from which they sprang. Simple graves are the most elemental form of burial. A rectangular hole five to seven feet deep is dug in the ground to accommodate the coffin. Earth is tightly packed on top of the coffin in the shape of an elliptical promontory or mound, extending the length of the coffin. After two or three years, with the disintegration of the coffin, the mound sinks, and it may then be rebuilt by scraping earth onto it from the vicinity of the grave. For Todos Santos, these graves are either left in their elliptical mound shape or changed into a rectangular or pyramidal shape, and they are then decorated with flowers and other adornments. The length of the mound indicates whether a child, youth, or adult is buried there, for the shape above the ground follows the contour of the coffin. Most of these graves are not marked by a cross, even on Todos Santos. The cruz de parada remains on the tomb for four years at most; then it is removed to the household, where it is periodically displayed next to the ofrenda. Thus, most of the crosses on these graves mark the burial places of people who have died within the past four years. But things have been changing, and now many people leave a permanent cross on the grave, usually made of metal and often rather ornately decorated. Graves marked by tombstones are found mostly in atriums and only occasionally in separate cemeteries. Prior to 1850, tombstones were made of a single slab of granite or other stone. They generally measured three to three and one-half feet long by twelve to twenty inches wide and were placed flat on the grave, slightly above the ground. Some of the old tombstones are found in the main walk (usually made of rather thick flagstones) between the entrance of the atrium and the entrance of the church. This suggests that the elders {principales or tiaxcas) or other important people were honored by being buried there; but the location of these graves also suggests rearrangements of the atriums during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, for the oldest tombstones are found in the seventeenth-century stone-fagade churches of the cabeceras de doctrina. 2 The inscriptions on old tombstones (usually including the name of the dead, age, sex, date of death, and occasionally crosses, doves, and other Catholic symbols) are gradually being worn 240

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away by having been stepped on for centuries. The people are very careful not to disturb these graves, which in the more conservative communities are regarded as the collective resting place of the ancestors. Some of these old graves are still decorated with flowers on Todos Santos by actual or presumed descendants of those buried there, that is, by people bearing the same names as those in the inscriptions. In most cases, however, the kinship connection has been lost, and it is then the duty of the merino and the topiles de iglesia to adorn these graves with a few zempoalxochitl flowers. Modern tombstones (those dated after 1850 until the early 1950s, after which they were no longer used) are also occasionally found in the main walks of atriums and other prominent places of enclosures, but most of them, like the older ones, are distributed around the atriums without any apparent pattern. The most significant difference between old and modern tombstones is that in the latter the inscription is not carved into the stone. Rather, the inscription is made to order of Talavera (majolica) tile in any of several pottery factories still active in the city of Puebla, and then set into the tombstone. Inscriptions in Talavera tile are usually made on oneinch-thick glazed ovals, but diamond-shaped and rectangular inscriptions are occasionally found. The inscriptions are rather elaborate, even baroque, and in the Pueblan tradition they are done in whites, blues, greens, blacks, yellows, and ochres. In addition to personal data, they may include lengthy legends of a religious or personal nature, most of them the standard fare of cemeteries but some of them witty and amusing. These tile inscriptions are the most aesthetically attractive feature of rural Tlaxcalan cemeteries. Hard stone is not very common in Tlaxcala, and in the more recent graves of this type, built during the 1930s and 1940s, the tombstone is really a slab of concrete, sometimes covered with thin flagstones, into which the Talavera tile inscription is set. Modern tombstone graves are mostly individual burials, but occasionally there are tombstones with two Talavera tile inscriptions, indicating that there are two people buried underneath. Tombstone graves are essentially fancy versions of simple graves, probably used mostly by more affluent families. Niched graves are above-ground structures with shallow foundations, rectangular in shape, ranging in size from three by nine feet to four by twelve feet and raised between six and fifteen inches above the ground. The structure is made of bricks or of stone and mortar {manposteria) and is covered with plaster or thin square bricks, more polished than normal bricks but not quite glazed. It incorporates a niche or vault at the head of the grave, which houses saints and other images, 241

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sometimes permanently and sometimes temporarily for Todos Santos. In the more conservative communities, small stone idols and figurines may also be displayed there when the tombs are decorated on November 2, with the same purpose as in the household ofrenda. There is no crypt or other enclosure beneath the structure, but merely a hole in the ground in which the coffin is placed. Niched graves began to appear, according to Desiderio Xochitiotzin (personal communication), at about the time of the Palafoxian inauguration of the parochial system in the middle or late seventeenth century. The original type was built only in atriums, which means that they ceased to be constructed by the second half of the nineteenth century. Variants, however, continued to be common until the late 1920s, when they began to be displaced by mausoleums as burial places for wealthy and important people. These are three types of niched graves: simple, dome, and chapel. The simple niched graves are the oldest type. In addition to the very simplicity of their architecture, the main evidence for their age is their basic construction material: a very large kind of brick, about twenty by eleven by four inches, known regionally as ladrillon, which can be seen in the pre-Hispanic ruins of Tizatlan, one of the several cabeceras of the old Tlaxcalan confederacy, and which continued to be used in secular and religious architecture until the end of the colonial period. The base rectangle of simple niched graves is composed of a single line of ladrillones standing on their ends and buried in the ground ten or twelve inches deep. The rectangle thus formed is filled with rubble and stones, tightly packed, and covered with other ladrillones lying flat on their sides. The niche at the head of the grave is a semicircle spanning the entire width of the brick grave; it is made of smaller bricks or mortar and stone and is two and one-half to three and one-half feet high, depending on the width and length of the grave itself. The depth of the niche varies from four to six inches, and its back wall drops straight down to the ground. Variations of this basic shape involve indentations on the sides, which reduce the span of the vault and make it more elongated vertically. The entire structure is covered with a fairly thick coat of plaster, which is ultimately whitewashed. There are no inscriptions on these graves, but it is possible that they originally had them in one fashion or another. Many of these niches are in varying stages of disrepair, but in the most traditional communities they are still whitewashed for Todos Santos. As in the case of old tombstones, simple niched graves rarely have a direct kinship connection with living people, and the duty of their decoration for November 2 falls upon the merino and the topiles de iglesia. Dome and chapel graves are subsequent elaborations of the niched 242

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grave. The only clue to their antiquity is that they do not use ladrillones as the main building material, as these bricks were on their way out around the middle of the eighteenth century. These types of graves probably did not become common until the postcolonial era, a guess that is supported by the fact that the earliest dates in the inscriptions on these types of graves are from the 1830s. Dome and chapel graves were common features of rural Tlaxcalan atriums until the third decade of this century, and they may be occasionally found in cemeteries. Their basic shape, their dimensions, and their mode of construction are essentially the same as those of the simple niched graves. Their distinguishing features are the construction materials, the shape of the niche, and the absence of plaster on the graves proper. The construction material that replaced ladrillones was a square type of brick, ten to twelve inches on each side and one and one-quarter to two inches thick. The construction of the base of the grave is the same, except that the later types are built on a shallow foundation of stone and mortar, to which the square bricks are fastened to form the rectangle of the grave, which is then covered with the same type of bricks. There have been two ways to hold the bricks together. The oldest way, employed until roughly the last decade of the nineteenth century, was to assemble the bricks together leaving no interstices and setting the side and top bricks on a one- to two-inch layer of mortar. The newer way was to form what may be described as a checkerboard pattern, in which the bricks were set from three-quarters to one inch apart from each other, and the spaces were filled with a hard paste of mortar and plaster, which was then painted roughly the color of brick. The niches were often burnished and acquired a rather glazed patina. The niche in these two subtypes is transformed, as their names indicate, into either a domed or a chapel-like superstructure, constructed in the same fashion and of the same materials as the simple niche but considerably more elaborate and exhibiting the influence of local religious architecture. The dome appears to have developed earlier than the chapel; both subtypes, however, were being constructed until the late 1920s. The domes are of the same width as the grave and were constructed atop a base of square or rectangular blocks. This block-anddome ensemble suggests the cross-nave (crucero) typical of rural Tlaxcalan churches, but with two differences: the dome is solid, and the rear arch is a solid wall. In other words, the dome sits on top of a structure constituted by a solid back wall and two front square pillars forming two lateral and one frontal round arches. The pillars are sometimes decorated with simple, linear friezes just below the architrave. All three arches may be basket-handle, or the lateral arches may be round while 243

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the frontal arch is basket-handle. The domes are either round or bellshaped. The latter kind predominate, though not infrequently the bell is truncated and on top of it rests a five- to six-inch mortar sphere. There are some elaborations of these basic forms, having to do mostly with the decoration of the columns. The chapel grave is marked by a bell-shaped niche that lacks the lateral arches and has a number of elaborations that in effect transform it into a windowless chapel. The frontal arch may take a variety of shapes, the most common being round, basket-handle, and horseshoe. Almost invariably, the bell-shaped dome is topped by a cross made of mortar and stone, but in a few instances it is topped by a sphere, like some dome graves. While the rectangle of the grave remains constant, the chapel may be substantially larger than the domed niche; together with the cross on its top, it can be as high as nine feet. A rather common variation of this type of niche is a truncated, four-sided pyramid, topped by a cornice, on top of which sits the cross. The frontal arch usually rests on false columns or pillars set either on pedestals or on the grave itself. Further elaborations consist of friezes on the columns, frets on the frontal arch, and even bas-reliefs on the lateral walls. Domes and chapels are always finely plastered and whitewashed, and the contrast with the red, sometimes burnished, bricks gives them an attractive aesthetic effect. Unlike simple niched graves, both dome and chapel graves are generally marked by inscriptions, usually on either a small slab of stone or an oval of Talavera tile, more rarely on a piece of onyx. Stone inscriptions are usually found in the older graves, while Talavera tile inscriptions are newer and more numerous, overwhelmingly predominating after 1870 or so. Whatever their material, the inscriptions are set symmetrically into the brick surface, midway between the dome or chapel and the foot of the grave. Again, the inscriptions may be rather elaborate and may include religious and personal legends fancied by those who commissioned them. Like simple niched graves, dome and chapel graves may house saints and images either permanently or temporarily. Additionally, in the enclosures of chapel graves it is not uncommon to see lighted candles, both on Todos Santos and on certain other occasions. Unlike simple niched graves, dome and chapel graves almost always have a direct kinship connection with living people in the community; as a result, they are kept in a good state of repair, and they are among the most profusely and beautifully decorated tombs on Todos Santos. Variants, or rather stylizations or simplifications, of dome and chapel graves began to appear in the 1890s, most notably in the superstructure. Three variants are most common. First, the rectangular base 244

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may have an upward gradient from foot to head of eight to twelve inches. Second, the dome or chapel may be replaced by a solid rectangle as wide as the grave and roughly two feet long and one and one-half feet high. Third, square or rectangular "flower vases" made of bricks may be placed at the corners of the foot of the grave. These and other variants give the distinct impression of being the graves of poor men who did not want to be buried in simple graves. Finally, it should be noted that the three types of niched graves were often built in pairs. Sometimes these are graves with a single base rectangle (which may approach the shape of a square) but two niches on top of it, resembling the arches of an aqueduct; or they may be doubledomed graves with slightly separated base rectangles, resembling the profile of a basilica, or chapel graves with a single base rectangle which look like a church with two steeples, and so on. This type of twin grave probably goes back to the time the earliest niched graves began to be constructed. The term "mausoleums" includes here not only what is usually understood by the Spanish word mausoleo—a rather elaborate tomb structure with either a single crypt or, more commonly, multiple crypts—but also several simpler types of tombs of urban origin that began to appear in rural Tlaxcalan cemeteries in the late 1930s. Mausoleums represent a diffusion from the outside world stemming from the involvement of rural Tlaxcalans in labor migration. They have become the most common type of entombment for the affluent and socially important sector of the local population. The few mausoleums proper that I have seen in rural Tlaxcala are small rectangular structures made of reinforced concrete. They look rather like miniature houses, with slanted concrete roofs and wroughtiron double-panel doors. They usually hold three, five, or seven crypts: one in the floor and two, four, or six along the walls of the structure. A built-in altar stands against the wall opposite the door, and each crypt is adorned with an inscription on a slab of a marble, onyx, or other fine stone. The door of the mausoleum is decorated with iron crosses, palms, or other religious motifs. The outside of the structure is either whitewashed or finely plastered, and not infrequently it is decorated with friezes and frets. The other kinds of structures covered by the term "mausoleums" are of urban origin and are made of concrete, reinforced concrete, or compressed stone, or of marble, onyx, or other polished stones, set on shallow foundations on top of simple graves. Although they still have the traditional rectangular shape, the height of the base may be two or three times as great as that of traditional graves. But the most striking 245

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difference is in the superstructures, which are combinations—sometimes innocently touching, sometimes outlandish and even ludicrous— of disparate elements, which may include stylized church steeples, pyramids, slabs of marble and stone, plaster angels and saints, large pottery vases, sarcophagus-like forms, and concrete posts and chain railings, complemented by elaborate, not to say gaudy, vertical and horizontal tombstones made of marble, onyx, and stone with often long and labyrinthine legends. Although burial in elaborate tombs has generally been the privilege of affluent and socially prominent people, there have always been families that for expressive or other reasons managed to bury their dead in style. The 20 or 2.5 percent of entombments which are of the more elaborate type considerably exceeds the proportion of families that could be called rich or powerful. Finally, it hardly needs to be added that, among the sixty atriums and cemeteries that formed the basis for the above descriptions, there were local variations that reflected the availability of construction materials and certain peculiarities of style. DESIGNS IN THE DECORATION OF THE GRAVES

The decoration and arrangement of the graves in the cemetery do not occupy as much time and attention on the part of rural Tlaxcalans as do the decoration and arrangement of the ofrenda in the household, nor do they cost as much money. No offerings are displayed on the graves (with some exceptions, to be noted below), and there are few options in their decoration. Flowers, containers, some special adornments, and a few elements associated with particular communities practically exhaust the list. Except in a few communities where the decoration of graves has acquired major proportions, this aspect of the cult of the dead is rather standard throughout rural Tlaxcala. The main reason for this difference is that, in the cemetery, rural Tlaxcalans honor and propitiate exclusively their own dead kinsmen, while the ofrenda in the household involves the worship and propitiation not only of their dead kinsmen but also all the souls in heaven and purgatory. Nonetheless, the decoration of the graves has significant expressive and affective dimensions, which warrant close scrutiny. Flowers are the most important item in the decorative designs, and, just as in the ofrenda, the most heavily used flowers are zempoalxochitl, amaranth (both moco de pavo and pata de leon), and baby's breath. Even more than in the ofrenda, zempoalxochitl are so profuse as to overshadow all the others. But in addition to these, the graves are also adorned with dalias (dahlias), margaritas (daisies), alcatraz (calla 246

THE DECORATION OF GRAVES

lily), and wildflowers, and, less frequently, with alheli (stocks), gladioli, carnations, chrysanthemums, gardenias, sunflowers, roses, and everlastings (siemprevivas). Ocoxochitl and zoapatl, on the other hand, are never used in the cemetery, for the people believe that to display these flowers in open spaces not only neutralizes their magical properties but may even bring bad luck. Plants and other horticultural decorations, such as branches of pine and other trees, palm fronds, and ferns, are occasionally used, but they are not important items. Traditionally, Tlaxcalans grew many of the flowers for the decoration of the graves, but this custom practically disappeared during the past generation, due mainly to the increasing frequency of labor migration. This has given rise to an extensive commercial production of flowers in Tlaxcala; the communities around Zacatelco and Nativitas, for example, are noted for their zeompoalxochitl, amaranth, baby's breath, roses, gladioli, and carnations. Seldom, however, is the local production sufficient for the Todos Santos celebration, and substantial amounts of flowers are therefore brought in from the Texmelucan and Acatzingo regions in the nearby state of Puebla, and some rural Tlaxcalans go to these places to buy flowers. The decoration of the graves consists chiefly of covering them with flowers and using flowers to arrange geometrical patterns and various motifs on them. Containers and other accessories are not essential and are not even common, but there is some use of glass and pottery vases, Talavera tile vases, ollas, jarros, small chiquihuites, and tin cans, both for the display of flowers and as part of the decoration. Among the most acculturated sector of the community, the use of containers for the display of flowers is beginning to displace the arrangements on the graves themselves, since these families either have lost the skills required or do not have the time. Many of the mausoleum-like structures have built-in vases for flowers made of plaster, stone, and even onyx, a decorative element that was introduced from the outside during the late 1920s.

There are also some traditional special decorations that are seen with some frequency. Among the most common are cruces de parada, wreath-like frames, potted flowers and plants, tree-crosses (branches of a tree in the shape of a cross), cacti, black cloths, canopies, and paper flowers. The cruces de parada are often decorated with zempoalxochitl flowers, fastened with string if the cross is made of metal and with glue if it is made of wood. Less often, crosses are festooned with garlands made of interwoven zempoalxochitl and moco de pavo flowers. In some communities, people make wooden frames in the form of wreaths and decorate them with zempoalxochitl, pata de leon, and several other 247

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varieties of flowers. The wreaths are as small as two feet in diameter and as large as six feet; they are hung from one or two poles set in the ground at the head of the grave. Potted flowers and plants may be placed at the foot of graves and left there to wither. In a few communities (San Juan Ixtenco, Santa Maria Citlaltepec, Santa Maria AtIihuetzian), tree-crosses are temporarily placed at the head of graves, usually decorated with garlands of zempoalxochitl and moco de pavo. A single-trunk variety of cactus, commonly used for fences and known locally as organillo, and the prickly pear cactus are occasionally planted at the head of simple graves; they are allowed to grow up to four or five feet, when they are removed and new ones planted. For Todos Santos, they are decorated by fastening zempoalxochitl and moco de pavo to their trunk and leaves. The use of paper flowers is a new practice, introduced in rural Tlaxcala during the past generation. Some conservative families, rather than decorating the graves of their dead with flowers, cover the graves with a blanket-size woolen cloth, usually decorated with a large white cross surrounded by Greek frets. These are the same cloths that households use to cover family altars for Holy Week. Canopies made of thin rods of metal or wood may be erected over mausoleum-like tombs and decorated with paper cutouts and paper flowers, another recent innovation associated with the more secularized sector of the community. My oldest informants remember the observation of Todos Santos in the cemetery at the turn of the century in terms similar to those of today, but there are indications that offerings to the dead may have been a common practice a century ago or more. In several communities today, offerings of food, drink, different kinds of water, bunches of candles and candles in candlesticks, and copalcaxitls are displayed on the graves. For example, during the evening of November i, the people of San Juan Ixtenco and Santa Maria Citlaltepec place on the graves of their dead two loaves of pan de muertos and a small cazuela of mole de huajolote. The offerings are left at the foot of the graves, and if during the night the bread and mole are eaten (probably by dogs and wild animals), the people say that the dead enjoyed the offerings. What remains the next day is fitted into the formal decoration of the graves. During the decoration of the graves on November 2, the people of Santa Maria Ocotlan and San Miguel Tenancingo offer jars of blessed and rainwater, which are set on the ground in the case of simple graves and inside the niche, dome, or chapel in graves of those types. In at least five communities, the people offer bunches of candles, candles in candlesticks, and copalcaxitls. In two of these communities, the people set a burning copalcaxitl near the foot of the grave while they are en248

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gaged in decorating it. It is not clear whether these offerings are idiosyncratic local customs or are survivals of once widespread practices. Finally, aside from the display of saints and images on niched graves and mausoleum-like tombs, simple graves occasionally display a saint or image of the particular devotion of the person buried there until November 2, when it is returned to the family altar. The care, regularity, and precision associated with the ofrenda in the household are on the whole less evident in the decoration of the graves. The people are not noticeably concerned about contravening symbolic associations, about doing things in exactly prescribed ways, or about breaches of etiquette or tradition and the consequences that may ensue. There is a more carefree attitude in the decoration of the graves and in all the ritual and ceremonial activities that take place in the cemetery. Consequently, there are more opportunities for the exercise of idiosyncratic and expressive preferences. Although there is a specific belief system associated with the cult of the dead in the cemetery, people deviate from its injunctions in a manner in which they would not dare behave in connection with the cult of the dead in the household. A couple of examples will illustrate this point. White flowers, especially baby's breath, are associated with infants and children, while flowers of other colors are deemed appropriate for honoring dead adults. In the household ofrenda, this distinction is strictly adhered to, but it is disregarded in the decoration of the graves of infants and children on Todos Santos. Although a bouquet of baby's breath is placed at the head of most infants' and children's graves, the decoration of the graves themselves seldom makes use of baby's breath, gladioli, or any other white flower; instead, these graves are usually decorated like adults' graves. Also, the ritual and ceremonial activities that take place in the cemetery, including La Llorada, are not as structured and formal as the rites and ceremonies that take place in the household during Todos Santos. Finally, it should be noted that, despite the standardization of decorative and ancillary elements for the decoration of graves, there is variation among communities. People use what they have at hand, and this is most noticeable when the northern, central, and southern cemeteries on the western slopes of La Malintzi are compared with those on its eastern slopes and toward the south-central part of the valley. Some of the variations in the use of materials will become clear below. General Decorative Configurations During the four to six hours that members of the family (nuclear, extended, or even segments of the nonresidential group) spend in the cem249

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etery on November ζ (usually sometime between 8 a.m. and 4 p.m.), nothing ritually structured takes place. The only event that approaches the semblance of a rite is the rosary that is often said after the task of decorating the grave or graves has been completed. Led by the head of the household, or any elder male, the company prays, kneeling around the plot. People may also pray individually to their dead kinsmen, either while they are doing the decorating or after they have finished. The more traditional families keep a copalcaxitl burning while their members work, and after the rosary has been said, the head of the household "smokes" [sahuma) the graves by making crosses with the burning copalcaxitl. Traditionalists may also hire a tezitlazc to say a set of responses or to lead the company in the accustomed litanies. These activities are performed with the appropriate circumspection de­ manded by the place and occasion, but in a light, almost happy manner. Saints and images, food, water, candles, and any other offerings are placed on the graves or under the protection of the niches immediately after completing the decoration. These offerings, except the saints and images, are regarded as expendable and are left on the graves to rot or to be destroyed by the elements. Some families leave a framed picture of a saint of their devotion throughout the year protected in a dome or chapel niche, but the majority retrieve their saints or images after three or four days and return them to the family altar. After eight o'clock in the evening on November 2, usually not a sin­ gle person remains in the cemetery, and except to retrieve saints or im­ ages, the majority of people will not return to the cemetery until Holy Week, unless, of course, there is a death in the family. It is curious that, although they feel so close to the dead in their thoughts and in spirit, rural Tlaxcalans are not comfortable near the mortal remains of their kinsmen. In fact, in most communities people do not handle their own dead kinsmen for burial; the task is performed by compadres or friends. Probably the only occasion on which rural Tlaxcalans feel at ease in the cemetery is during La Llorada, when the structured nature of the event and the safety in numbers counteract the inherent dislike and apprehension of touching or being near the bones of the dead. This attitude arises out of the belief that, after death, the soul flies away but the body remains and discharges humors that are dangerous to hu­ mans, especially to those nearest to the deceased. Thus, people do not go to the cemetery unless they have to. Under these conditions, for four or five months following Todos San­ tos, the cemeteries are littered with the debris of the items that deco­ rated the graves, which the merino and the topiles, and certainly not the grave owners themselves, do not bother to clean up until Holy Week. 250

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By the time Todos Santos comes again, the cemetery is once more a veritable mess; the mounds of simple graves have almost disintegrated and have to be remade, and all other types of graves have to be retouched, whitewashed, or cleaned. This is usually done the day before All Souls Day, after the merino and the topiles have finished the general cleanup of the cemetery. Each family is responsible for cleaning the area adjacent to its graves. The basic objective in the traditional decoration of graves is to adorn them with patterns and combinations of flowers. Each type of grave entails particular motifs, designs, and flowers and other materials. Zempoalxochitl flowers of all sizes and shades are used in great quantities, and their orange-yellow and ochre-yellow colors dominate the visual tapestry into which a rural Tlaxcalan cemetery has been transformed by the late afternoon of November 2. No grave is without zempoalxochitl; most graves have many and some are covered with a mantle of them. By themselves or combined with other flowers, zempoalxochitl are also arranged into wreaths, crosses, garlands, and festoons alongside and around the grave. The principal use of zempoalxochitl, however, is for the adornment of the rectangular surface and the superstructure of the graves themselves. From base to summit or top, the graves may be entirely covered with a mantle of flowers; the flowers are individually placed, and different shades may be used for contrast. Frets, friezes, and geometrical motifs are fashioned out of individual flowers on the tops and sides of the graves. Domes and chapels, and the crosses on top of them, are covered with flowers fastened by wire or glue. Crosses, monograms, and religious figures and motifs are depicted in flowers on the flat surface of the graves. Tombstones, onyx and TaIavera tile legends, and other inscriptions and drawings on the graves are framed with flowers. Finally, zempoalxochitl may be displayed in vases and containers, integrated with these decorative patterns, and they may be used for arranging and decorating ancillary elements such as cacti and tree-crosses. All other flowers are subsidiary to zempoalxochitl, both in quantity and in symbolic saliency. Indeed, in the great majority of rural Tlaxcalan cemeteries the incidence of zempoalxochitl is greater than that of all other flowers combined. The symbolic importance of the other flowers more or less correlates with their incidence, and they can be ranked as follows, from higher to lower: moco de pavo, pata de leon, baby's breath, dahlia, daisy, calla lily, and wildflowers. Other flowers used for the decoration of graves (gladioli, carnations, chrysanthemums, gardenias, sunflowers, roses, and everlastings) are of still less importance and are not universally used. What is interesting about the more com251

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monly used flowers is that they are all native to Mesoamerica and were probably used in pre-Hispanic times. Moco de pavo and pata de leon, especially the former, are the most widely used after zempoalxochitl. They are displayed in vases and in bouquets placed at the head or foot of graves, and, more often, they are used in combination with zempoalxochitl in geometrical designs for covering grave surfaces and for making wreaths, garlands, and festoons. Baby's breath, because of its delicate and rather unwieldy nature, is unsuitable for geometrical arrangements, but it is displayed in vases or in bouquets fastened to the foot of crosses or spread out in a single, dome, or chapel niche. The dahlia is used more often than baby's breath, but it is not as important symbolically. Its petals are very popular for making crosses or geometric designs or for covering entire simple graves. The multicolored petals of dahlias strewn over the top and sides of a grave and framed by frets of zempoalxochitl produce a rather striking effect. Large bunches of dahlias may also be displayed at the foot of any type of grave. Calla lilies are always displayed in vases, and they are considered a fancy elaboration. Wildflowers are either displayed in small bouquets placed at the head of tombs or strewn at the base. Other flowers are regarded as "treats" for particularly honored dead kinsmen. They are displayed in vases or special containers and set in prominent places. In these floral arrangements, rural Tlaxcalans exhibit considerable expressive creativity. The utilization of varying shades, the contrasts in design, and the many original touches produce results that are often striking and very pleasing to the eye. Decorations on Simple Graves In what may be a mechanism of compensation, simple graves are probably the most elaborately decorated and designed. They are first shaped, for Todos Santos, into one of two basic forms. The earth of the promontory may be tightly packed into an elongated mound, carefully molded so that it has no flat surfaces; or the earth is sculpted into a rectangle with slanted sides, so that vertical cuts in either length and width would form trapezoids. The height of the promontory varies from twelve to twenty-four inches. Mounded and sculpted graves nowadays are seen with approximately equal frequency, but my oldest informants categorically affirm that before the turn of the century all graves were sculpted. Since sculpted graves take considerably more time to shape and more money to decorate, the rise of mounded graves might be interpreted as an early sign of modernization. It is also possible, however, that mounded graves have always existed in rural Tlaxcala, and that 252

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they have simply increased in number until reaching parity with sculpted ones. This possibility gains plausibility from the fact that mounded graves are most numerous in the least acculturated communities. In any event, mounded graves are always individually shaped and decorated, while sculpted ones may be built over two or three adjoining graves; these large multiple sculpted graves are among the most elaborately decorated in rural Tlaxcala. The surfaces of either kind of grave may be left as rough earth, smoothed out as evenly as possible, or they may be covered with a coat of fine-grained sand or other material, white or colored, so that they are smooth as well as even. It would be practically impossible to give an exhaustive account of all the designs and variations employed in the decoration of these graves. What follows is a general outline of the most common and classic designs and some of the variations. The most elementary decoration on a mounded grave is a simple cross of zempoalxochitl, or of dahlia petals and small boughs of moco de pavo, set on the center of the mound. (This is usually done on the graves of long dead kinsmen, and it is customarily accepted that they do not need elaborate decorations. Occasionally, perhaps because of lack of time or money, families decorate the tombs of their recent dead in this simple fashion, but such families are subjected to considerable gossip and may be branded as unreliable.) A slightly more elaborate decoration consists of covering the entire grave with a mantle of either zempoalxochitl or a mixture of dahlia petals, small boughs of moco de pavo, and wildflowers. If the grave has a cross, it is decorated with a garland of zempoalxochitl; if not, a flower pot with a bouquet of either zempoalxochitl or moco de pavo is put in its place. Beyond these is a progressive elaboration of design, which can be divided into three stages. First, the grave covered with flowers is framed at the base by a fret of zempoalxochitl or moco de pavo, or both, and large bouquets of baby's breath, dahlias, calla lilies, or wildflowers are set either at the foot of the grave or in a rectangular pattern. Second, starting at the base, the grave is decorated with concentric circles of zempoalxochitl, interspersed with small boughs of moco de pavo or pata de leon; a space may be left open toward the foot of the grave, where a cross of zempoalxochitl or moco de pavo is made. As a variation of this design, graves may be partly covered with zempoalxochitl and boughs of moco de pavo, leaving empty spaces between them so as to resemble a quilted pattern. The third stage, the most elaborate design of mounded graves, consists of an oval, a square rounded at the corners, or an elongated hexagon along the length of the tomb, midway between base and summit, made of a fret of zempoalxochitl and framing a cross made of moco de pavo or pata de leon. The 253

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base of the grave is also surrounded by a fret of zempoalxochitl, and the space between this and the geometrical figure is decorated with designs of curved and straight lines. The most common variations on these designs, all with individual flowers or strings of zempoalxochitl, moco de pavo, pata de leon, and sometimes dahlias, are these: arrangements of equilateral triangles; garlands hung in semicircles from the upper fret; isosceles triangles interspersed with two or three smaller triangles, resembling the teeth of a bucksaw; one large or two smaller Grecian or curvilinear frets; religious symbols such as crosses, hearts with crosses, the eye of the holy spirit, and chalices; and asymmetrically distributed geometrical figures such as triangles, circles, diamonds, and stylized fountains. Finally, the decoration of even the simplest of mounded graves will often include decorated cacti, and there may be crosses or standing wreaths as well. The designs on sculpted graves are similar to those on mounded graves. Petals of dahlias or other nonwhite flowers are never used for the decorations; whole flowers or bouquets are used instead, and zempoalxochitl, moco de pavo, and pata de leon predominate over all other flowers even more than is the case on mounded graves. Otherwise, the designs differ mainly in degree of elaboration and complexity. Sculpted graves are covered with white or colored sand or chalk more often than are mounded graves; the double- and triple-grave surfaces provide much more space for decoration; and the flat surfaces allow for more precise arrangements. The fine, smooth, and colored surface background of these graves gives them a canvas-like aspect against which the designs stand out vividly. The precision of execution is striking but sometimes borders on the precious and affected. In contrast to the classic designs of mounded graves, sculpted graves exhibit a degree of sophistication that can be very pleasing but sometimes seems slightly forced. There is no doubt that the baroque decorations on sculpted graves are a reflection of the increasing affluence and outside influence that rural Tlaxcalans have experienced in the twentieth century. It should be noted, though, that these new designs have been fully integrated with the classic patterns of mounded graves. This is a good example of how the assimilation and reinterpretation of foreign elements by a traditional complex can be accomplished without serious dislocation or ungainly results. Indeed, the sculpted grave today looks quite traditional, which is, of course, the mark of a successfully achieved syncretic change. This can best be seen in San Juan Totolac, whose cemetery exhibits the best-known sculpted graves in rural Tlaxcala. Among the variations in sculpted graves, the least elaborate is one in which the surface rectangle is only minimally decorated and the slanted 254

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sides are left entirely undecorated. The rectangle is demarcated by zempoalxochitl flowers tightly strung together, and a simple cross of the same flower is placed in the center. In somewhat more elaborate designs, moco de pavo and different shades of zempoalxochitl are interspersed in the demarcating line and cross; the cross is set on a base of zempoalxochitl or attached to a heart of pata de leon; monograms made of any of these three flowers are fashioned within the rectangle toward the foot of the grave; or the four corners of the rectangle may be filled in with zempoalxochitl in the shape of small triangles. Sculpted graves are occasionally entirely blanketed with a mantle of zempoalxochitl, but only if the earth of the grave is not covered with sand or chalk, for this background is obviously intended to make the floral designs stand out. Again, three stages of further elaboration can be distinguished, and they are similar to those of mounded graves. First, the slanted sides are decorated with large, single flowers of zempoalxochitl, sometimes interspersed with boughs of moco de pavo or pata de leon. The sides may also be decorated in a quilted pattern or with vertical frets evenly spaced around the grave. Second, the flat surface of the grave is covered with an intricate design combining geometric and religious motifs, in which the basic flowers predominate but any of the traditional flowers may appear. The zempoalxochitl cross is replaced by a cactus or a cruz de parada, set at the head of the grave, and adorned with flowers, or by a zempoalxochitl or moco de pavo cross placed on the foot end of the grave. Third, the sculpted grave becomes a churrigueresque ensemble of colors and motifs that can be compared with the most elaborately baroque retables to be found in rural Tlaxcalan churches. At a distance, these sculpted graves look as if they are entirely covered with flowers; but when one approaches them, one can see that the pattern is a carefully executed and precisely detailed arrangement of flowers contrasting with the white or beige color of the background. There are not many graves so highly decorated, but those that are have the look of exquisite tapestries of color and design. It is on the double or triple sculpted graves that one finds the most complex designs and superbly achieved decorations in rural Tlaxcalan cemeteries, and perhaps in any rural Mesoamerican cemeteries. The top surface may be as large as seven feet square, and the designs employ the full range of flower combinations. A common theme in the double and triple sculpted graves is the depiction of symbols for the gender and age of the people buried there: winged angels for infants and children, made from the petals of white flowers; and for adults, stylized skulls made of zempoalxochitl or hearts with crosses, made of boughs of moco de pavo or pata de leon, with the cross sticking up from the right 255

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side for males and from the left side for females. Another difference between single and double or triple sculpted graves is that in the latter, religious motifs predominate at the expense of geometric or other designs. In my opinion, the arrangement and display of the classic ofrenda in the household and the decoration of double or triple sculpted graves in the cemetery are the highest expressions of the folk art of rural Tlaxcalans, pinnacles of their expressive culture. Decoration of Tombstone and Niched Graves Tombstone graves are the most simply decorated ones in rural Tlaxcalan cemeteries. One reason for this is that the rather small surface of the tombstone does not provide much room. In addition, old tombstone graves rarely have living kinsmen connected with them, and so they have to be decorated by individuals who usually do not care enough to do a proper job. Thus, the decorations on these old tombstone graves are quite minimal: petals of the three basic flowers may be strewn over the stone surface, a zempoalxochitl cross placed near the foot of the stone, or a bouquet of zempoalxochitl placed in the middle. Newer tombstone graves, having the attention of kinsmen of the dead person, are slightly more decorated: the perimeter of the stone is marked with a string of zempoalxochitl, sometimes interspersed with moco de pavo; the entire stone is covered with zempoalxochitl; or both the perimeter and the inscription are framed with the same flowers. On neither old nor new tombstone graves do the decorations include ancillary crosses, wreaths, or cacti, and only occasionally is a vase of zempoalxochitl or moco de pavo placed at the foot of the grave. When to this is added their flatness and the fact that they are the least numerous type of grave, it becomes clear that tombstone graves are the most inconspicuous ones in the cemeteries. Indeed, many old tombstones have disappeared altogether as a result of the alterations that have been made in several rural Tlaxcalan atriums during the past decade. The main walks and sometimes the entire floor have been paved with flagstones, bricks, or cement blocks, covering many of the oldest tombstones and converting others into part of the floor of the atrium. There is a tradition of remembering the old covered graves on Todos Santos; even in 1984, a token cross was still being placed on the flagstones or bricks approximately where the graves were. The decoration of niched graves stands between the simplicity of that of tombstone graves and the elaborateness of that of mounded and sculpted graves. The decorative designs for the three subtypes are fairly similar. The perpendicular or slightly slanted sides of the structures are 256

THE DECORATION OF GRAVES

never decorated; all the floral arrangements are made on the flat or slightly graded surface of the base rectangle. In simple niched graves, the rectangle is demarcated by a fret of zempoalxochitl, and a large cross of the same flower, sometimes interspersed with moco de pavo or pata de leon, is placed in the middle. Less commonly, the entire surface of the grave is covered with a blanket of zempoalxochitl. More elaborate arrangements include placing a large bouquet of zempoalxochitl or moco de pavo on the center of the blanketed grave and placing bouquets of the same flowers and baby's breath on the lower, upper, or all four corners of the grave; and occasionally the framed cross of zempoalxochitl is accompanied by a heart or an angel or other religious motifs at the foot or head of the grave, made with flowers other than zempoalxochitl. In the case of dome and chapel graves, the decoration of the rectangle is more elaborate, but any of these patterns may be used, except covering the entire rectangle with a blanket of flowers, since dome and chapel graves almost invariably have inscriptions. The most common way of decorating dome and chapel graves is to demarcate the rectangle with a fret of zempoalxochitl, frame the inscription with a fret of moco de pavo or pata de leon, and complete the design with two or three religious motifs made of other flowers. Other designs include zempoalxochitl or moco de pavo bouquets in fancy vases placed on the four corners of the grave; two black earthenware pots with large bouquets of baby's breath and pata de leon, placed respectively in front of the dome or chapel and below the framed inscription; religious motifs that approach the complexity of sculpted graves; and black earthenware pots with zempoalxochitl, moco de pavo, pata de leon, and baby's breath placed at the four corners. Just as in the case of double or triple sculpted graves, double dome or chapel graves are the most elaborately decorated of their type. Although they do not approach the extreme elaborateness of the former, their rather classic decorations, enhanced by the gracefulness of the dome or chapel, make them some of the most appealing and imposing graves to be seen in the cemeteries of rural Tlaxcala during Todos Santos. The decoration of the superstructure of niched graves is simpler than that of the base rectangle, but its very simplicity adds to the overall effect. The simple niche is usually decorated only with a single bunch of moco de pavo fastened to the uppermost point of the arch's vault, or with a single garland of zempoalxochitl fastened to the entire length of the arch. The most common design for a dome niche is to cover it entirely with zempoalxochitl glued to its surface, or with a mixture of zempoalxochitl, moco de pavo, and dahlias, distinctly resembling the Talavera-tile-covered cupolas of rural Tlaxcalan churches. Both dome 257

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and chapel niches are decorated with four or six strands or garlands of zempoalxochitl or moco de pavo hanging from the sphere or cross; or the lower part of the dome or vault and the sphere or cross are covered with these flowers. In addition, the cross in a chapel niche may be topped by a tightly packed bouquet of baby's breath. The frontal and lateral arches of domes, and the frontal arch and side walls of chapels, are usually left undecorated, but sometimes they are adorned with hanging garlands or with floral frets fastened to the masonry. Under the dome and inside the chapel, the floor may be strewn with petals of zempoalxochitl or boughs of moco de pavo, or covered with a bed of baby's breath; occasionally, the framed pictures and images in the dome and chapel are decorated with individual zempoalxochitl flowers or boughs of pata de leon or baby's breath. Not all rural Tlaxcalan cemeteries have dome and chapel graves, nor are they common even in the cemeteries that do have them; but classically decorated dome or chapel graves are indubitably the most eye-catching sights during Todos Santos and are certainly aesthetically and expressively outstanding. Finally, a word about mausoleum-like tombs. This type of burial breaks with tradition not only in architectural terms but in decoration and arrangement as well. Paper flowers, plastic, and other foreign elements replace the traditional flowers, containers, and ancillary items, and the classic and baroque designs give way to urban counterparts, with little attempt to integrate, let alone reinterpret, these borrowed elements and forms. The results are often outlandish. In retrospect, mausoleum-like tombs and their decorations would have been a good symbol of what was in store during the process of rapid change in the region during the next generation. Without the help of photographs, it is difficult to convey the variety of forms, tapestry of color, and overall aesthetic impact of a well-decorated rural Tlaxcalan cemetery in the late afternoon of November 2. There is no occasion in the public social and religious life of the community that can compare with it in terms of beauty, expression, and material representation of an important institution. It is a rather fleeting vision, however, for barely three days later the flowers have withered and the decorations are showing the deterioration effected by the elements. Yet this very transitoriness may be regarded as an appropriate symbol for the transience of life itself and the thin line that separates the living from the dead, as conceived by rural Tlaxcalans. It is also difficult to describe the range of variation among communities, both in terms of the global arrangement of cemeteries and the incidence and differentiation of types of graves and their decoration. Instead, the cemeteries and atriums of three rural Tlaxcalan communities will be 258

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described, in each of which the decoration of one of the most common types of graves is emphasized. San Francisco Tepeyango: Mounded Graves Tepeyango (see map 2), a pre-Hispanic community, had been an important headtown, probably the center of an independent principality (senorto), when the Spaniards arrived. This was undoubtedly a prime consideration in the establishment of a Franciscan monastery in the community, the construction of which started about 1554 (Gibson 1952:46). It is highly probable that the open chapel, the ruins of which still stand today next to the monastery church, dates from the late 15 30s or early 1540s, which further attests to the importance of Tepeyango in pre-Hispanic times.3 It is not known when the monastery was abandoned, or what exactly happened to it after the Palafoxian reform, that is, after 1640 or so. However, by 1700 the monastery was empty and was already turning into ruins (Chauvet 1950:37-49). The entire complex (the church, attached cloister, and additional buildings) is now a calamitous ruin, but its imposing size and the quality of the construction attest to the importance that it must have had. At the time of the secularization of the convents, Tepeyango became a parish headtown. The fagade and main structural features of the parochial church were built between 1650 and 1660. The church is constructed in the Palafoxian style, but unlike all other churches of this period in Tlaxcala, the fagade is covered with Talavera tile. The parochial church of Tepeyango is one of the earliest examples in the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley of this use of Talavera tile, a style that culminated nearly a century later in the magnificent fagades and towers of the churches of San Francisco Acatepec and San Miguel Tlaxcalancingo, some seven and nine miles south of the city of Puebla respectively. The parochial church of Tepeyango was built about one hundred yards to the left of the monastery church, some fifty yards toward the slopes that surround the main part of the settlement. The two churches are oriented in opposite directions; the parochial church faces east, contrary to the custom of orienting churches toward the west, as the monastery church is. Originally, the parochial church appears to have had a large atrium, which, together with the atrium of the convent church (obviously what had constituted the esplanade of the open chapel), comprises today the atrium-cemetery of Tepeyango. It is roughly a rectangle of 90 by 180 yards, extending from the parochial church atrium to the northern slopes that frame the community and against which the monastery was originally nestled. Exactly when this 259

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complex became the burial place for the people of Tepeyango, is not known, but one of the tombstones in the atrium is dated 1667, which suggests that this enclosure became the cemetery of Tepeyango immediately after the construction of the parochial church. There is no clear boundary between the atrium of the parochial church and the cemetery occupying essentially what was the atrium of its predecessor. The atrium-cemetery of Tepeyango is thus a good example of the traditional practice of extending the former and transforming it into the latter; it also exemplifies the fact that tombstone graves, old and new, have always been almost exclusively associated with atriums. 4 At the time when data were being collected for this monograph, this atriumcemetery had tombstone graves and niched graves of all three types. Twenty years later they were all gone, for they had been located in the atrium, which was later totally modernized. Tepeyango is one of the more traditional communities, in that the four classic flowers (zempoalxochitl, moco de pavo, pata de leon, and baby's breath) are used exclusively for the decoration of all graves. The main reason for this is that Tepeyango is one of the very few rural Tlaxcalan communities that not only is self-sufficient in the supply of these flowers but even exports them for the Todos Santos celebration. Located at the bottom of the valley, and protected on its northern boundary by a range of low hills, Tepeyango is in a microenvironment within the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley that is especially favorable for agriculture. Partly provided with a system of irrigation from linked underground wells (fogaras) and with good alluvial soil besides, Tepeyango is one of the three or four rural Tlaxcalan communities in which agriculture accounts for more than 50 percent of local subsistence. It is well known in the region for its avocados and vegetables as well as for its flowers. Simple mounded graves predominate in Tepeyango even more than in other communities. In decorating them, the people adhere fairly strictly to the use of white flowers (baby's breath) for infants and children and of colored flowers (the other three kinds) for adults. Two designs are most common, which may be called, like those of the household ofrenda, the classic and the baroque. The classic is marked by a double fret of zempoalxochitl at the base of the mound and on its midslopes, framing a cross of moco de pavo or pata de leon. The baroque features a quilted pattern of zempoalxochitl and moco de pavo surrounded by a Grecian fret fashioned along the base. Beyond this, there is considerable leeway in design. However, the emphasis is on rectilinear designs combined with tapestry-like combinations of flowers, while religious motifs are almost completely absent. 260

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Probably the two most distinctive characteristics of the decorations of the graves in Tepeyango are the use of flowers in containers and the use of large wreaths. The people of Tepeyango surround their graves with great bunches of flowers in fancy vases and black earthenware pots, to the point where they frequently dwarf or altogether obscure the decorations on the graves themselves. Compounding this rococo display, many of the graves are adorned with large wreaths, four to six feet in diameter, towering at the head of the entire ensemble. The combinations of the basic flowers in the decorations around the periphery of the graves are numerous; the only apparent rules governing their display are that all graves must have zempoalxochitl and that infants' and children's graves must have at least a token bunch of baby's breath. The most common patterns are: a solid wall of vases of zempoalxochitl, not infrequently interspersed with black earthenware pots filled with moco de pavo or pata de leon; alternating vases and earthenware pots containing a mixture of zempoalxochitl and moco de pavo; alternating vases of baby's breath and earthenware pots of zempoalxochitl and moco de pavo; and vases and pots of these flowers in various combinations clustered at the foot of the grave with a wreath of the same flowers at the head of the grave. Instead of the wreath, any of these combinations may include a highly decorated cruz de parada, usually made of metal. The few tombstone and niched graves and mausoleum-like tombs in the atrium-cemetery of Tepeyango are decorated with the same patterns and designs. It is worth noting that cacti of any kind are never used for tomb decoration in Tepeyango, a characteristic shared with all communities in the central-southern, moister and more fertile, part of the valley. The use of cacti is confined to the northern, drier part of the valley, an interesting ecological aspect of the cult of the dead. The view of Tepeyango's cemetery in the late afternoon of November 2, from the edge of the slopes surrounding the community, is one of the most striking and impressive in rural Tlaxcala. Set amid the parochial church with its glittering Talavera-tile fagade, the imposing ruins of the Franciscan monastery, and the low hills, the cemetery is a symphony of color. Dominated by the yellows and ochres of zempoalxochitl, which are irregularly interspersed with the reds and purples of moco de pavo and pata de leon and the white of baby's breath, the cemetery looks like a gigantic oriental tapestry, framed by the usually deep-blue color of the Tlaxcalan sky at that time of year. It is the epitome of what the traditional rural Tlaxcalan cemetery is supposed to be. 261

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San Juan Totolac: Sculpted Graves Totolac (see map 2) is also a pre-Hispanic community, but, unlike Tepeyango, it has never been a parish seat. Rather, since the secularization of the convents, it has been a visiting church of San Nicolas Panotla, the headtown of its parish. It has an interesting baroque church, completed in 1767, with a fa9ade made of pink stone from a quarry not far from Tepeyango. The church faces east, again contrary to the orientation of the majority of Tlaxcalan churches. It is located on a promontory that overlooks the northern part of the valley and the western slopes of La Malintzi. The atrium antedates the present church, which replaced a smaller one probably constructed toward the end of the sixteenth century.5 That the atrium is older than the present church is shown by a tombstone dated 1717, located in the lower left part of the atrium. As with so many old tombstone and niched graves in rural Tlaxcalan cemeteries, a mausoleum-like structure was built over this grave in the early 1970s. The original atrium of Totolac's church, like that of Tepeyango's, was extended into a cemetery, and it is today an atrium-cemetery. The atrium proper retains roughly the same dimensions of the original atrium, for the layout of the church today clearly indicates that it was built on exactly the same site as the smaller sixteenth-century church. It is roughly a rectangle, fifty yards long and thirty yards wide, aligned with the center of the church. The floor is fairly flat, which is made possible by a fifteen-foot retention wall constructed on the downward side of the promontory. The frontal part of the atrium is delimited by a typical wall of inverted arches built on top of the retention wall. It is probable that people from Totolac have been buried in this enclosure since the construction of the earlier church, although only a handful of old tombstones have survived into the twentieth century. The cemetery extends northward and westward around the entire length of the church, and the atrium-cemetery today, together with the church, constitutes roughly a square, one hundred yards on each side, in which the churchatrium occupies the southern half and the cemetery the northern half. The retention wall is prolonged northward, but the promontory descends rather sharply, so that the cemetery has roughly a fifteen-degree eastward slant. Totolac's cemetery has all four of the major types of graves, but proportionally fewer tombstone and niched graves than the average cemetery. Probably 80 percent of all its graves are sculpted for the Todos Santos celebration, and they are deservedly famous in the region. Indeed, the decoration of sculpted graves in Totolac is unique in rural 262

THE DECORATION OF GRAVES

Tlaxcala. The people are intensely proud of their work, and more than in other communities, they take special care and spend considerable amounts of money on decorations and arrangements. They set up a committee to organize and coordinate the overall decoration and ar­ rangement of the cemetery as a collective enterprise, beyond the tradi­ tional responsibilities of the merino, the topiles de iglesia, and the in­ dividual families. The decoration of graves becomes a competitive enterprise: families compete against one another for the best and most carefully realized designs, and Totolac as a collectivity strives to main­ tain its pre-eminence as the community with the most beautifully dec­ orated graves in Tlaxcala. What makes Totolac's grave decorations unique is the use of special materials and unusual designs. Two materials are exclusively associ­ ated with the decorations in this community. One is the fruit of the madrono tree (species unidentified), a shade tree that is fairly common in northern and central Tlaxcala. The fruit is known locally as the capulincillo (although there is no botanical relationship to capulin); it is dark green and round, about one-quarter of an inch in diameter, and it is used for forming lines, frets, and religious and geometric designs, and also for delimiting designs made of chalk. The other is a fine-grained white sand, actually a chalk, known locally as arenilla, extracted from a lode in the Tepetzintla hill, one of the five hills in the central Tlaxcalan massif overlooking the city of Tlaxcala. (It was on the slopes of these hills that the main Tlaxcalan principalities established their fortified headtowns in pre-Hispanic times.) Arenilla is used to cover the surfaces of the sculpted graves, and it is also dyed red, blue, gray, yellow, purple, and ochre for use in making designs on the white background. When capulincillo and dyed arenilla are combined with the traditional flow­ ers and other decorative elements, they produce striking effects that make the Totolac graves truly exceptional. There are seven basic designs of sculpted graves, three of them com­ paratively simple and four more elaborate. The main element of com­ paratively simple graves is capulincillo, with a rather sparse comple­ ment of zempoalxochitl decorations, while elaborate graves are baroque mixtures of capulincillo, several colors of arenilla, and the basic traditional flowers. They will be described in order of increasing complexity. ι. The flat surface of the grave is entirely decorated with capulincillo. The slanted sides of the grave are somewhat rounded at the corners, es­ pecially the upper (head) corners, so that the surface looks like a rec­ tangular window with an upper basket-handle, archlike shape. The surface is outlined with a single, continuous line of capulincillo; within 263

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it, three-quarter circles, punctuated by a single capulincillo, are formed against the outer line all around the perimeter, resembling a row of female breasts. Toward the upper part of the center of the decorated surface, a single-line three-inch wide cross of capulincillo is made, resting on a double pedestal connecting two opposing sets of the breastlike designs. To complete the decoration, a line of single, large zempoalxochitl, spaced about ten inches apart, is formed around the midslopes of the grave. The graves decorated in this way are usually of adult size but contain several infants and children. 2. The same conformation of rounded corners and upper baskethandle shape of the surface is decorated with a combination of capulincillo and zempoalxochitl. The perimeter of the surface is bounded by a line of zempoalxochitl, set three or four inches apart, while the designs drawn inside are made of capulincillo. These may be either a heart with a cross sticking up at the head of the grave and the monogram of the dead person at the foot, or a rather elaborate cross resting on a pedestal in the center of the rectangle. This design may also include a bouquet of either baby's breath or moco de pavo, placed on the slanted side at the foot of the grave, to indicate whether the individual buried there is an infant or child or an adult. 3. The rectangular surface is delimited by a double line of closely set capulincillos, and the space between the lines, three or four inches wide, is filled with gray or purple arenilla. Two triangles of the same color may be formed at the upper corners of the rectangle so that the surface of the grave resembles an ogival window, or two touching semicircles are drawn at the bottom corners and then the surface resembles an inverted ogee window. The rectangle's inner decoration is rather varied, but it is made of a combination of capulincillo and colored arenilla and may include the monogram of the dead and a heart with a cross sticking out in grays, purples, and reds, placed near the foot of the grave; a gray or purple cross set on a red pedestal; or a large red heart with a purple cross sticking out of it set in the middle of the rectangle and further decorated with small white and/or red hearts near the four corners of the surface. This design is rather common for children and infants, and it is usually accompanied by three small bouquets of baby's breath set into the ground, two at the foot and one at the head of the grave. The decoration is completed with a double triangular fret of individual zempoalxochitl flowers on the midslopes of all four sides of the grave. 4. The white surface of the grave is given a second coat of blue or reddish-purple arenilla; sometimes the slanted sides are colored blue, while the surface rectangle is colored reddish-purple. A four- to five264

THE DECORATION OF GRAVES

inch straight or curvilinear Greek fret outlines the surface of the grave, and within it are an oblique cross near the head of the grave and the monogram of the dead person at its base. The fret is made of arenilla in deep-blue, red, or a combination of both colors, while the cross and monogram are made of capulincillo. A large bouquet of zempoalxochitl in an earthenware pot is placed at the foot of the grave, and large bouquets of moco de pavo or pata de leon are set in the ground at the four corners. 5. On the white flat surface and sides of the grave, an elaborate design is drawn in blues, reds, purples, grays, and ochres. The rectangular surface is framed by a double line of capulincillo. Two six-pointed stars are formed at centers of the rectangle's sides, and four stylized double fleurs-de-lis extend on either side of them along the sides of the rectangle. An oblique cross at the top and the monogram of the dead at the bottom of the rectangle complete the decoration of the flat surface. The four sides of the grave are decorated with semicircles or inverted basket-handle arches anchored to the double line of capulincillo and interspersed with tassels, also made of capulincillo, hanging down to near the base of the grave. All the designs are formed from arenilla in various combinations of colors: the sides generally in blues and grays, the fleurs-de-lis always delineated in blue and filled with purple, and the stars delineated in red and filled with ochre. The ensemble is completed by placing two large black earthenware pots of zempoalxochitl at the foot corners and two equally large pots of moco de pavo at the head corners of the grave. 6. The surface of the rectangle is framed by a double line of capulincillo set some three inches apart, with blue or purple arenilla between the lines. The designs within the rectangle, the most complex in Totolac, are formed by capulincillo and filled with arenilla in bas-relief fashion. They include hearts with crosses, angels, monograms, flowers, and crowns, usually done in reds, yellows, ochres, and purples. All four sides of the grave are decorated with zempoalxochitl and bunches of moco de pavo and pata de leon in a quilted pattern, leaving enough space between them for the contrasting white arenilla background to show through. This design often includes a cactus, the only one to do so; the cactus is set a few inches from the head of the grave and is decorated with three zempoalxochitl. It may be noted in passing that floral wreaths are never used for grave decoration in Totolac, and decorated crosses are seldom seen. 7. The few double and triple graves in Totolac are decorated in one of the last three designs or sometimes in a combination of them. Other265

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wise, there is nothing special about their decoration, except of course that the larger space available makes the final result more eye-catching. The people of Totolac make a special effort to complete the decoration of the graves by four o'clock in the afternoon, so that the many visitors who come from all over the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley will have at least two hours in which to view their work. As the sun begins to set behind the western hills, the sight of the cemetery is moving and spectacular. The whiteness of the graves, the contrast with the predominant blue, red, and purple of the designs, the skillful use of zempoalxochitl, moco de pavo, pata de leon, and baby's breath, and the care in execution and detail of the overall ensemble make a rare aesthetic experience. Its uniqueness perhaps arises not so much out of the decoration of individual graves as out of the concern the community takes with the overall arrangement of the atrium-cemetery, which transforms it into the supreme example of collective expression in any single cultural domain of rural Tlaxcalan society. Santa Maria Atlihuetzian: Niched Graves Atlihuetzian (see map 2) was an important pre-Hispanic community. It may have been the headtown of an independent principality at the time of the Spanish Conquest, but it is more likely that it was part of the principality of Tizatlan, one of the most important in the old Tlaxcalan confederacy, whose capital was located less than five miles away (see Gibson 1952:89-123). In any case, there is no question that Atlihuetzian was a prominent community in the affairs of the Tlaxcalan confederacy, and again, as in the case of Tepeyango, this must have been an important consideration in the establishment there of a Franciscan monastery in 1554. It was a more modest establishment than Tepeyango's, but its church is very impressive, larger than its equivalent in Tepeyango, and with a very high ceiling. In 15 28, Acxotecatl, the lord of Atlihuetzian and one of Cortes's main Tlaxcalan generals in the siege of Tenochtitlan (Mexico City), was ordered executed by Martin de Valencia, friar superior at the Franciscan monastery in the newly founded city of Tlaxcala. The reason for this action was Acxotecatl's murder of his son Cristobal (who had been baptized with this Christian name by the Franciscans a few years before), apparently because of the latter's refusal to worship the old gods and because of his efforts to convert members of his father's household to Christianity. This episode, together with the death of two other noble children, is known in Tlaxcalan history as "la historia de los tres ninos martires" (the story of the three martyr children), an oral tradition which was used by the friars as 266

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an object lesson in the process of conversion and catechization in the province (Motolinia 1903:187-197). The monastery in Atlihuetzian has an open chapel attached to the church in exactly the same way described for Tepeyango. The chapel and the church also date from the same periods: during the decade of i53o-i54oforthe former, and roughly between i 5 6 o a n d i 5 8 o for the main construction of the latter. Again, it is not known what happened to the Atlihuetzian monastery after the Palafoxian reform, but by 1670 it had been abandoned, and at the beginning of the eighteenth century it was in ruins (Chauvet 1950:49-63). The open chapel is still in fairly good condition today, but the roof of the church is gone, and the cloister has been completely levelled. Atlihuetzian did not become a parish seat. The headtown of its parish was San Dionisio Yauhquemehcan, about four miles to the north. Perhaps Atlihuetzian was considered to be too close to other parish headtowns, for those who established the parochial system in Tlaxcala sought to achieve an even spatial distribution of headtowns. The church of Atlihuetzian was built between 1660 and 1680, but the fagade has classic baroque elements that anticipate those of the first quarter of the eighteenth century. Although the fagade is a very good example of the early and classic baroque styles prevalent in the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley, the church is most interesting because of its retables, which span a period of more than three hundred years. They include two simple retables, one of which can be dated circa 1576 (it was briefly described in chapter 3), the other roughly twenty years later, and both probably were part of the monastery's original accouterment; two early baroque retables of late seventeenthcentury origin; four ornate retables of middle and late eighteenth-century origin; and four neoclassic retables of nineteenth-century origin. The last addition to the church was the installation of one of these neoclassic retables in 1885. There are very few churches in Mesoamerica with sixteenth-century retables, let alone with such an impressive array of them. The church of Atlihuetzian was built about one hundred yards north of the monastery church. Construction materials from the monastery church were used for the new building, as can be clearly seen in the main gate of the inverted-arch wall enclosing the atrium. The arch stones, fleurs-de-lis decorations, and two stone Hapsburg double eagles are definitely of sixteenth-century origin. The atrium is forty yards square, and it (as well as the cemetery) probably was used as a burial place from the time the church was built until the turn of the century; since then, for unknown reasons, nobody has been buried there. There are some seven old tombstone and niched graves, but the dates in the 267

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inscriptions are no longer legible. Even in 1984, three or four of these old graves were being perfunctorily decorated on Todos Santos. The cemetery of Atlihuetzian occupies the entire floor space of the old monastery church and the space that constituted the adjoining cloister. The floor of the church measures about twenty by sixty yards, and that of the razed cloister about forty by seventy-five yards. These two spaces, separated only by the southern wall of the monastery church, today make up Atlihuetzian's cemetery. A tombstone inscription dated 1709, located in the church next to one of the columns supporting the choir, suggests that these spaces became the cemetery around the beginning of the eighteenth century. This also suggests that by 1700 the monastery church was no longer in use, probably already in a bad state of disrepair, perhaps even without a roof/ The cemetery probably expanded into the cloister before the end of the eighteenth century, as indicated by the niched graves found in the monastery cemetery, the majority of which are located inside the church. The ladrillon with which four or five simple niched graves are constructed shows that they are roughly of mid-eighteenth-century origin, while the twelve or so dome and chapel graves (two outside and ten inside the church) are probably of late eighteenth- or early nineteenth-century origin. Some of the frescoes that originally decorated the sacred enclosure of the open chapel still can be partially seen. More interesting sociologically, on the place where the original altar of the open chapel stood, the fiscales of Atlihuetzian still set up a tree-cross on August 10, which stays there until the following August 10, when it is replaced by a new one—obviously a survival of the pre-Hispanic Xocotl Huetzi. In addition to the early niched graves, there are another twenty or so newer ones, and it is these that are the center of attention here. Most of them are located within the confines of the church's walls, and they are among the roughly one hundred graves of all kinds found in the enclosed part of the cemetery. They are the classic examples of simple, dome, and chapel niched graves, the best built and architecturally the best proportioned. No other cemetery in the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley has a collection of niched graves in such a circumscribed space, and in such a harmonious ensemble, as that within the walls of the monastery church in Atlihuetzian. 7 The decoration of niched graves has already been described, but a few remarks are appropriate in order to show why those in Atlihuetzian stand out. First, while many flowers may be used to decorate other kinds of graves, niched graves must be exclusively decorated with zempoalxochitl, moco de pavo, pata de leon, and baby's breath. In this respect, and unlike grave decorations in the great majority of communi268

THE DECORATION OF GRAVES

ties, the decoration of niched graves in Atlihuetzian approaches the standardized exactness characteristic of the decoration of the ofrenda in the household. Second, all the patterns and designs of niched-grave decoration described above are used, but here, they are more carefully executed. Moreover, in no other community is the use of black earthenware pots filled with bouquets of the traditional flowers more aesthetically accomplished or more successfully integrated into the overall design. Third, while the decoration of the base rectangle adheres to the classic patterns, the adornment of the superstructure is quite baroque. This is especially the case with the decoration of crosses and domes, in which the ochre, red, and white of the traditional flowers are combined to achieve striking results. Finally, as in the case of Totolac's cemetery, it is not so much the decoration of individual graves as the overall effect of the cluster of graves around the choir and in the front half of the church that is most unusual and aesthetically arresting, and this effect is further enhanced by the setting. Words cannot convey the feelings that are aroused by the sight of the Atlihuetzian cemetery decked out in all its finery for Todos Santos. The high walls of the church cast a protective mantle over the mansion of the dead, creating a timeless ambiance in which the living and the dead seem to coalesce.8

RELIGIOUS MEANINGS AND SYMBOLIC INTERPRETATIONS

Several of the elements of grave decoration, especially flowers and containers, are also elements of the ofrenda in the household and share their symbolic associations. However, as compared with the ofrenda, grave decoration has few pagan elements, and few that are peculiar to rural Tlaxcala. The cult of the dead in the cemetery for the most part does not deviate much from the standard folk complex found in most of rural Mexico, and it is an essentially Catholic complex, complemented, to be sure, with local or regional pagan elements. Given these considerations, the socioreligious and symbolic meaning of the cult of the dead in the cemetery can be covered briefly, with primary attention being given to what is essentially rural Tlaxcalan and pagan. The Sacred Context of the Cemetery Unlike the household ofrenda and the overall belief system and ideology of the cult of the dead, the decoration of graves and the sacred context of the cemetery are not syncretic. Rather, this complex is largely Catholic, slightly modified with a few pagan elements, which manifest themselves primarily in the symbolism of particular items and 269

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the reinterpretation of specific ritual events. The reason for this lack of syncretism is that apparently there were no pre-Hispanic antecedents either of burial places comparable to Christian cemeteries or of ceremonies in honor of the dead conducted there. At least, there are no references to them in the literature. It appears, then, that the cult of the dead in the cemetery was introduced by the Franciscan friars as part of the process of conversion and catechization during the first fifty years after the Spanish Conquest. Inevitably, the Christian burial practices and other usages connected with the cemetery were modifed by perhaps rather similar pre-Hispanic practices and usages, leading to an acculturative complex whose emergence was probably facilitated by a considerable degree of convergence between pre-Hispanic polytheism and Spanish Catholicism. It has already been suggested, for example, that La Llorada, a Spanish tradition of long standing, may have had a pre-Hispanic counterpart (see chapter z), not necessarily within the confines of a burial place, but in any context or enclosure associated with the disposition of the dead. The same could be said about the use of flowers, the decoration of the graves, and other events in the cemetery, as concerns both the actual physical disposition of the dead and the honor paid to them on specific dates. All the types of graves described in this chapter, on the other hand, are of Spanish Catholic origin, with the exception of simple graves, which are probably pretty much the same in most culture areas of the world. Moreover, the indoctrination of Tlaxcalan Indians in the beliefs and practices of Catholicism concerning the dead and their physical disposition must have taken place within the context of church and atrium, for it is safe to assume that from the beginning the friars taught the Indians how to bury the dead in these enclosures, since that had been a Spanish practice of long standing. Unfortunately, these conjectures are difficult to prove, for there is little information in the sources concerning the disposition of the dead in pre-Hispanic times. The friars and other religious authorities did not write on this subject with the degree of detail needed to constitute adequate proof, though it is clear that most bodies were cremated. At any rate, probably a century after the beginning of conversion, the Tlaxcalan Indians were burying their dead in basically the same fashion as is done today in rural Tlaxcala. My oldest informants definitely maintain that the cult of the dead in the cemetery basically has not changed since the last decade of the nineteenth century and that most of the decorative designs described above were just as elaborate and complex then as they are now. However, there is reason to suspect that the physical manifestations of the cult of the dead in rural Tlaxcala had already been significantly influenced by 270

THE DECORATION OF GRAVES

the Mestizo, urban world, beginning around the middle of the century. This influence made itself felt primarily in new designs and more complicated patterns, which apparently were quickly assimilated and reinterpreted within the then traditional structure of decoration and display. These changes did not affect the ideology or belief system of the cult of the dead, but they made the overall ensemble of events and activities in the cemetery more Mexican-Spanish than Indian. Functionally and structurally, then, the socioreligious meaning and symbolic interpretation of the physical manifestations of the cult of the dead in the cemetery must be analyzed within the context of folk Catholicism, which in this respect does not deviate much from orthodox Catholicism. Rural Tlaxcalans honor their dead kinsmen by decorating their graves with flowers according to the canons of the Mother Church; they arrange the cemetery as a proper place for the occasion according to longstanding Catholic practice; and they propitiate their dead kinsmen according to Christian tradition. One could make the case that certain flower designs and specific arrangements are survivals of a polytheistic past, and that the souls of dead kinsmen worshipped and propitiated in the cemetery are the same as the dead kinsmen and the blessed souls in heaven and purgatory honored and propitiated in the household, together constituting an essentially fertility, intensifying cult. But one cannot interpret the decoration of graves in the cemetery, as the household ofrenda was interpreted, by appealing to a complex of pagan beliefs and anthropomorphic personages, regardless of the former's pre-Hispanic survivals, for that would do violence to the facts. And since the symbolic interpretation and religious meaning of the cult of the dead in the cemetery in rural Tlaxcala must be undertaken in a straightforward Catholic fashion, it will not be carried any further here, except for a few additional points that may illuminate the sacred and symbolic ambiance of the cult of the dead in the cemetery in contrast to that of the ofrenda in the household. First, the cult of the dead in the cemetery and in the household are structurally different, not only because one is discharged within an essentially Catholic matrix while the other is syncretic and has many pagan elements and undertones, but also because one is public while the other is largely private. On the other hand, they share some symbolic elements as well as the ultimate goal of propitiation of the dead. The symbolism of white flowers as against colored flowers, for example, is found in both. (It is likely that the symbolic meaning of white as representing purity, and its association with infants and children, was present in pre-Hispanic culture, since that is true in many other cultures, but there are no specific references that confirm it.) 271

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Second, niched graves can be interpreted as symbolic homologues of church architecture, and this is even more true of the mausoleum-like tombs of the past thirty years. Indeed, in the construction of the latter, people have gone to the extreme of representing specific churches and chapels. The notion of replicating religious architecture in graves and tombs is not only an expressive manifestation but, perhaps more important, it is also a kind of magical act. Several informants expressed the firm belief that tombs in the shape of structures of religious worship do not only honor the dead more appropriately, but also afford the dead better protection against whatever hardships and travails they may encounter in the afterlife, that is, in purgatory. Two informants went on to say that the protection actually resided not in the ostentation of the tomb but in the care that it denoted and the prayers that would be said for the soul of the dead person, whether they were needed or not, that is, whether the person went straight to heaven or had to spend time in purgatory first. This is an implicit statement about the contingency of the universe in which rural Tlaxcalans function, for no one can know for certain whether after death a person will go to heaven or purgatory. It also exemplifies the deep-seated pragmatism of rural Tlaxcalan religion: in case of doubt one always seeks maximum protection. Third, this analogy with religious architecture can be extended to the designs on the graves. It is evident that they have a good deal in common with the baroque, churrigueresque, and neoclassic architectural styles of fagade and retable decoration in the churches of rural Tlaxcala. The use of these designs presumably incorporates some of the religious symbolism that the architectural styles entail. Symbolism of Specific Designs The decoration of graves has fewer of the mnemonic aspects that were emphasized in the discussion of the ofrenda and of the rites and ceremonies centered around it. Furthermore, the elements associated with grave decoration are intrinsically charged with less symbolic importance and contain fewer propitiatory components than the offerings displayed in the ofrenda. Four examples will illustrate these points. First, although this is by no means the practice in all of rural Tlaxcala, in two of the most conservative communities on the northwestern slopes of La Malintzi only tezitlazcs are allowed to decorate their kinsmen's graves, which are usually of the simple mounded type and are decorated with cacti festooned with zempoalxochitl and moco de pavo garlands or with the former fastened to the trunk of the cacti. Given the 272

THE DECORATION OF GRAVES

nature of these flowers, and the socioreligious position of this supernatural practitioner, the evident symbolism is that of an appeal to dead kinsmen, one of whom was perhaps himself a tezitlazc, to help the tezitlazc communicate successfully with the supernatural owners of the mountains in his efforts to promote good weather conditions and adequate rainfall. This example also shows that the propitiation of and entreaty to non-Catholic supernaturals (in this case primarily La Malintzi and El Cuatlapanga) are not generally the purpose of grave decoration but rather are reserved for special individuals of traditional importance to the agricultural welfare of the community. Second, the design of a large heart with a cross sticking up from it is rather common in rural Tlaxcala. The heart itself is usually formed of moco de pavo, petals of red flowers, or red-dyed arenilla, while the cross is formed of flowers or materials of any color. Moreover, almost invariably the cross sticks up from the right side for males and from the left side for females. Superficially, this looks like a Christian symbol, but in my opinion it is actually of pre-Hispanic origin, probably modified by the Indians upon their conversion to Catholicism. The pre-Hispanic peoples of Central Mexico regarded the heart as the site of the soul, although it is not known whether there was any association of sex differences with the right and left sides. The functional-symbolic interpretation of this design may be related to fertility, but that is not clear. Third, it has been pointed out that the three-quarter circles punctuated by a capulincillo that adorn one of the classic designs on the sculpted graves in Totolac resemble a string of female breasts and that the graves decorated in this fashion usually contain the bodies of several infants and children. It seems reasonable to believe that these breastlike decorations are a vestigial representation of the pre-Hispanic Chichihualcuahuitl or Suckling Tree, which has been discussed before (see chapters 2 and 7). Fourth, in rural Tlaxcala, and probably in much of Mesoamerica, the cross is not only a Christian symbol but a fertility symbol as well. Thus, the cruz de parada that may be part of the decoration of a grave, besides marking the death of a particular individual, also, when adorned with zempoalxochitl and moco de pavo flowers in the case of adults and baby's breath in the case of infants and children, is a fertility entreaty to the person buried there, the same kind of symbolism that is operating when the graves of infants are adorned with white flowers to enhance the maturation of the crops. In the same fashion, one could interpret the crosses sticking up from hearts as mnemonic devices reminding the dead to watch over the crops for the coming year. There is no doubt that the ofrenda in the household ranks above the 273

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decoration of the graves in the cemetery in terms of ritual centrality and symbolic propitiation, but in terms of expressive value the two are equally important. The greater saliency of the private cult of the dead centered on the ofrenda stems from the fact that it is embedded in a matrix of the propitiation and intensification of Catholic and pagan supernaturals alike, while the public cult of the dead in the cemetery is not so embedded. The processes and structures of these two aspects of the cult of the dead are further differentiated by the syncretic nature of the cult of the dead in the household as against the primarily Catholic, acculturative nature of the cult of the dead in the cemetery.

274

·9· PUBLIC ASPECTS AND SOCIOLOGICAL IMPLICATIONS OF THE CULT OF THE DEAD

In addition to the private aspect of the cult of the dead, with which this monograph is primarily concerned, there is also an important public component, which is an integral part of the cult of the saints. An analysis of this pubic component is necessary to an understanding of the private aspect, and that is the main focus of this chapter. Some of the sociological implications of the public cult of the dead will also be considered in their relationship to behavior and patterns of interaction affecting the Todos Santos cycle as well as two other cycles in the ritual calendar. These are aspects of the public cult of the dead that have not been discussed in the ethnographic and ethnological literature on Mesoamerica.

T H E MAYORDOMIA SYSTEM

The single most salient institution in rural Tlaxcalan folk religion is the mayordomia system. It embodies the essence of the belief system underlying the cult of the saints, and upon it converge the most important ritual and ceremonial functions and activities. It is therefore natural that the public aspects of the cult of the dead are anchored in this complex of ritual sponsorship; indeed, this has been so since the crystallization of the mayordomia as the hub of ritual and ceremony three hundred years ago (see Nutini and Bell 1980:287-331). Nor is it surprising that some of the public aspects of the pre-Hispanic cult of the dead have survived in the mayordomias. Given the homology and analogy of saints and dead souls, practically everything said about the one applies to the other (see Nutini 1968:63-79; Nutini and Isaac 1974:361-371; Nutini andBell 1980:31-36). This section describes the structure of the mayordomias concerned with the cult of the dead, their functions and activities, and some of the beliefs and practices connected with them that illuminate the private, household cult of the dead. Types and Functions of Mayordomias All traditional and transitional communities and even some secularized communities in rural Tlaxcala have at least one mayordomia 275

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whose object of sponsorship is one of the several kinds of dead souls. Some communities have as many as four of them, but the average community has two. Intrinsically, the mayordomias associated with the cult of the dead do not rank high in local systems, although they acquire higher standing than they would otherwise have by virtue of their relationship to Todos Santos, Holy Week, and other important ritual occasions. This represents a significant change since the first half of the seventeenth century, when the mayordomias (or cofradias or hermandades, as they were more commonly known at that time) associated with the cult of the dead stood at the top of the sponsorship system. The reasons for this decline are obscure, but preliminary analysis of the Iibros de cofradia of several communities indicate that it had already occurred by the middle of the eighteenth century, and after that time they never regained the position of pre-eminence that they had once shared with the sponsorships of the patron saint and the various manifestations of Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary. The change may have been related to the rising importance of the private, household cult of the dead. In any case, by the end of the eighteenth century the public cult of the dead had become essentially Catholic but as an integral part of the syncretized mayordomia system, while the private cult of the dead had crystallized into a fully syncretic entity more than a century earlier—an example of the differential outcomes of guided and spontaneous syncretism. It is quite certain that until the turn of the twentieth century rural Tlaxcalans discriminated among the different kinds of dead souls as mayordomia objects—namely, those in heaven, purgatory, and even limbo, as well as the souls of the saints. This is no longer the case in the typical community. Although the people are quite aware of the differences between the dead souls in heaven and in purgatory, the two main objects of the cult, they do not specifically discriminate in their worship and propitiation. In other words, even less than in the private cult of the dead, the objects of the different kinds of mayordomias concerned with the dead, regardless of the names by which they are known, do not involve a clear distinction of worship and propitiating functions. Rather, the distinction is based on the nature of the dead souls themselves (infants, children, adults, or saints), not on their final destination (heaven, purgatory, or limbo). More important, the entreaty to particular dead souls is done in the privacy of the household and by individuals, while the public entreaty to dead souls embodied in the mayordomia addresses them as an undifferentiated supernatural complex, although for different purposes depending on the occasion. Mayordomias in rural Tlaxcala may have linguistic labels that identify them 276

IMPLICATIONS OF THE CULT OF THE DEAD

as being concerned with particular dead souls, but in their propitiatory and intensifying content no significant distinction obtains, except for a few token rites or ceremonies that validate the label. The names or labels of dead-souls mayordomias are still essentially the same as those by which they were designated in the libros de cofradia more than 350 years ago (see chapter 3). No new names have appeared since the middle of the eighteenth century, and the only difference now is that dead-souls sponsorships are almost always known as mayordomias, while in colonial times they were labelled cofradias or hermandades. (If there were differences among these kinds of organizations, they were probably related to the shift in the relative importance of the public and the private cult of the dead.) The most common names in rural Tlaxcala, from highest to lowest frequency, are mayordomias of las anitnas benditas, las benditas animas del purgatorio, las benditas animas, las animas benditas del purgatorio, las animas de todos santos, las animas de la buena muerte, and las animas del buen morir. Aspects of these various sponsorships have been discussed previously, but these may now be summarized and supplemented. The objects of these mayordomias are, of course, the different kinds of souls. The mayordomia of proper or saintly dying is a special manifestation of the mayordomia of the blessed souls, or all the blessed souls. (It will be recalled that these two labels stand for all the dead souls that go directly to heaven.) This is a specious terminological elaboration, useful in reconstructing the elaboration of the cult of the dead in its manifold sponsorships, but no longer corresponding to the objects of worship. The contemporary operational structure of the public cult of the dead simply specifies that the people worship and propitiate an undifferentiated complex of dead souls that are in heaven and purgatory. Children are included in the complex, since they always go to heaven, but infants are largely ignored, in sharp contrast to the private cult of the dead, where they play such a prominent role. In many communities, some of the mayordomias of dead souls are what may be called service or support sponsorships; in these, the supernatural object of the mayordomia has been lost or is no longer the object of worship. Only the name remains, and its functions and activities during the annual cycle are subsidiary or complementary to those of other more important mayordomias or structured ritual and ceremonial complexes. This is the case with the mayordomias of the blessed souls of all saints. Until 1890 or so, this sponsorship involved masses, processions, vigils, and other ritual and ceremonial activities in honor of the most venerated souls in the community (usually the patron saint, Saint Joseph, Saint Anthony, Saint Michael, Saint John the Apostle, 277

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Saint Peter and Saint Paul, and Saint James). These took place on the specific days of the saints, and on November ι the mayordomias put on an impressive ritual and ceremonial display in both the church and the cemetery. By the turn of the century, this elaborate complex had almost completely disappeared, and shortly after the mayordomias of the blessed souls of all saints had been reduced to coordinating the activi­ ties in the cemetery for Todos Santos and to some support activities during the Holy Week celebration, which are the functions that it has today. It has not been possible to determine the propitiating and inten­ sifying functions of the worship of the souls of the saints entailed, but the contraction of the functions of these mayordomias is the obverse of the proliferation of mayordomias in rural Tlaxcala, beginning in the second half of the nineteenth century, and of the tendency to keep ritual sponsorships self-contained. It should be noted that service or support mayordomias of several kinds (that is, sponsorships whose function is not the worship of supernatural entities but the carrying out of a variety of ritual activities) are quite common in rural Tlaxcala, their existence going back to the seventeenth century. The propitiating and intensifying division of labor of the mayordomia system follows closely that of the private cult of the dead in the household. In addition, however, the public cult of the dead has an overriding latent and manifest function: to entreat all dead souls, re­ gardless of age status and final destination, to do everything possible to ensure good crops, favorable weather, and propitious conditions for the entire community. They perform this function both on fixed dates (January 5, February 2, June 2.6, December 16, and, of course, Todos Santos) and on intermittent dates, in addition to the last Friday in Au­ gust, when special pleadings are addressed to dead souls on occasions of crisis or stress such as too much rain, not enough rain, impending bad crops, and plagues and epidemics, and whenever the officials in charge deem it wise to intensify any of the above aims. Thus, there is a high degree of congruence between the protective, propitiating, and in­ tensifying aims of the public and the private cults of the dead. The complementary functions of the mayordomias of the cult of the dead should not be underestimated. These sponsorships perform valu­ able services in the organization of the festivities of other intrinsically more important mayordomias or complexes of them, especially during the two other main cycles, Holy Week and Christmas-Candlemas. The reasons are obvious: Holy Week and the cult of the dead share the themes of death and transfiguration, while the Christmas-Candlemas cycle, at least in the conception of rural Tlaxcalans, shares with the worship of dead souls the theme of rebirth and renewal. During Holy 278

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Week, for example, the officers of the mayordomia or mayordomias of the blessed souls stand guard at night in the atrium of the church, and, accompanied by considerable numbers of their kinsmen and compadres, conduct vigils inside the church from the night of Holy Thursday to the night of Holy Saturday. Symbolically, the dead Christ is guarded and attended by the blessed souls, represented by the officers of the ayuntamiento religioso. Equally important are the more mundane support activities afforded by the personnel of the mayordomias for such occasions as the feast of the patron saint and Corpus Christi, and for other less important ceremonies. This supporting and complementary role may also be discharged by the ayuntamiento religioso, as the administrative hierarchy of the local community. The participation of the officials of these two ritual corporations in the local folk religion not only lends luster to the celebrations, but it affords moral and supernatural support as well by virtue of the symbolic and actual authority that the corporations represent. This is clear testimony to the ritual and symbolic importance of the cult of the dead, for no other mayordomia (not even that of the patron saint) has this honored position beside the ayuntamiento religioso. Even though the mayordomias of dead souls rank low in the local system, their symbolic and ideological importance is of the highest order, significantly greater than their low administrative position in the hierarchy. Indeed, irrespective of their embodiment in specific mayordomias, the cult of the dead ranks higher than any single sponsorship, including those of the patron saint and any of the manifestations of Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary. Among the mayordomias concerned with the cult of the dead, that of the souls of all saints has important administrative functions in its own right, for it organizes the main public events of Todos Santos—La Llorada and the arrangement of the cemetery. Finally, a comparison of the public and private cults of the dead reveals both differences and similarities. They are based upon the same belief system and have the same goals of pleading for good crops, good litters, propitious weather, good health, and smooth interpersonal relations. The forms of supplication are the same, and so are the ritual means employed. In these respects, there are no differences either between the cult of the dead and the cult of the saints, except that the cumulative ritual importance and supernatural effect of the former is greater than that of the cult of single saints or complexes of saints—for example, the six or seven saints, Christs, and Virgins associated with Holy Week and Christmas-Candlemas. (Christ is included in the category of "cult of the saints," for in the operational discharge of this aspect of the folk religion, no clear distinction is made between God the 279

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Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit, on the one hand, and the Virgin Mary, the saints, and all the kinds of dead souls on the other.) The differences between the public and the private cult of the dead revolve, of course, around the locus of discharge of rites and ceremonies. With its locus in the household, the private cult of the dead is the concern of individuals, and the propitiatory and intensifying efficacy of the supplication does not extend beyond the confines of the nonresidential extended family. It should be understood, however, that the dozens or hundreds of ofrendas and household rites for Todos Santos, and the innumerable activities undertaken by the household throughout the year in honor of the various kinds of dead souls, are regarded as having a cumulative effect in increasing the pool of goodwill with the supernatural for the entire community. It is this communal aspect of the private rites that makes them prescriptive and sometimes subject to sanctions if they are not performed. The public cult of the dead, on the other hand, is intrinsically concerned with the community as a whole and does not usually involve individualized supplications. There are, however, occasional exceptions. When a prominent individual dies or is about to die, or when a household has suffered a serious accident or disaster, those empowered to act on behalf of the community do tacitly pray for and commend the affected persons to all the blessed souls. (This is a function of all mayordomias and not exclusively of those concerned with the cult of the dead.) 1 It has also been pointed out that the private cult of the dead is "pluralistic," while the public cult of the dead tends to be "monistic." With some exceptions, the public cult of the dead is essentially Catholic; it is centered on all the souls that are in heaven and purgatory, and no discrimination obtains along the lines of age and particular circumstances of death. The private cult of the dead, on the other hand, discriminates quite precisely on the basis of age and circumstances of death, the role of infants and children being most prominent. The people are not only conscious of the differences among kinds of dead souls, but they worship them in different fashions on different occasions. In other words, the private cult of the dead is not only more complex and diversified than the public cult of the dead, but it has retained many more pre-Hispanic elements than the latter. This has been explained in terms of a differential process of syncretism and acculturation.

Personnel and Activities The personnel of the mayordomias of the cult of the dead are the same as those of any other mayordomia. The most common names for 280

IMPLICATIONS OF THE CULT OF THE DEAD

these people are mayordomos (stewards), divutados or diputados (deputies), tequihuas (attendants, assistants), topiles or tupiles (assistants, messenger boys), and componentes (assistants to the mayordomo). Each mayordomia has a single mayordomo, who is the head of the sponsorship, and in addition it typically has one or two diputados and one to four topiles, one tequihua and two to four topiles, or three to seven componentes. The diputado and the tequihua have essentially the same duties, as assistants to the mayordomo, while the topiles are lower in rank. The term "componentes" embraces diputados, tequihuas, and topiles. The mayordomo is the main ritual officiant and organizer of the mayordomia's functions. On all occasions he is given the place of honor, and many of the rites of the annual cycle take place in his household, though they are not private occasions, for everything the mayordomo does during his year in office is the concern of the entire community. The deputados or tequihuas act as secretaries of the mayordomia. They take care of all the paper work, record any agreements reached, and occasionally initiate ritual and ceremonial actions on their own. The topiles occupy the third and lowest level in the hierarchy; they perform the menial tasks of the mayordomia, such as decorating altars, handling sacred paraphernalia, collecting funds, and promoting communal participation. They do not initiate any actions on their own. This division of labor varies from community to community: topiles may acquire more important ritual and administrative functions, and componentes may be given particular functions on the basis of age and social ranking. The nuclear and extended families, and not infrequently the nonresidential extended family or even larger kinship and compadrazgo networks, of the personnel of a mayordomia constitute its social, economic, and religious support matrix. Depending on the degree of secularization of the community, this network of kinsmen and compadres can be activated as the occasion requires. For example, in the mayordomia of the souls of all saints, the entire network would be activated only for the Todos Santos celebration, which requires large amounts of money and personnel; while for most other occasions in which this mayordomia participates, the nuclear and extended families would suffice to provide the required money and personnel. This aspect of the mayordomia system, drawing large numbers of people into participation, makes the sponsorship truly communal. The mayordomias of the cult of the dead, like other mayordomias, are active in many social, economic, and religious affairs that stand at the heart of the Catholic-folk life of the community. These activities 281

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may be divided into formal or institutionalized ones and informal or intermittent ones. The former are these: (i) The nombramiento, or se­ lection and appointment of the officials of the mayordomia. This gen­ erally takes place some time between December ι and January i , in the presence of the officials of the ayuntamiento religioso, and is generally attended by large numbers of people. It initiates the annual cycle of rites and ceremonies and is invariably concluded with a ceremonial meal in the house of the incoming mayordomo. (z) The recibimiento, or trans­ fer of the framed image of all the blessed souls in purgatory to the in­ coming officials by the outgoing officials, which usually takes place a month or so after the nombramiento. From the house of the outgoing mayordomo, the image goes in procession to the local church for a mass, after which the procession goes to the house of the new mayor­ domo, where the image is deposited on the family altar with consider­ able pomp and ceremony. The participants then return to the house of the outgoing mayordomo for a ceremonial banquet. (3) The fiesta of the mayordomia's particular cult of the dead, the high point of the an­ nual cycle, which falls on January 5, February z, June 26, December 16, or, for the mayordomia of the souls of all saints, during Todos Santos. The most elaborate functions and activities take place during these days; they may include masses, high masses, processions, ceremonial banquets, rosaries, responsories, and ceremonies such as La Llorada and the decoration of the graves in the cemetery. (4) Finally, the entrega, or the handing over of the image to the incoming mayordomo— that is, the obverse of the recibimiento—which terminates the annual cycle of the mayordomia. The informal or intermittent activities of the mayordomia are fairly numerous, take place at various times during the year, and include rit­ ual or ceremonial occasions pertinent to the sponsorship itself and par­ ticipation of the image and the personnel in the celebrations of other mayordomias. They generally include the following: (1) Periodic gath­ erings of the officials of the mayordomia, usually known as refrescos or tezentlalils, the main object of which is to transact business or plan coming activities, (z) Ceremonial breakfasts or meals in honor of the ayuntamiento religioso of officials of other mayordomias. (3) Vigils, masses, processions, and banquets of the mayordomia itself or partici­ pation in the same events of other mayordomias. (4) Llevadas a misa, or taking the image to church "to hear mass." Again, all these activities involve the participation not only of the full array of mayordomia of­ ficials but also of their families and large numbers of other people. There is a rather strict division of labor among the personnel of the mayordomia in the organization and discharge of these formal and in282

IMPLICATIONS OF THE CULT OF THE DEAD

formal activities. The mayordomo, of course, has the heaviest economic and social responsibilities, but diputados, tequihuas, and even topiles bear an important share. In effect, the mayordomia is a highly integrated small corporation, in which honors, duties, and responsibilities are fairly equitably apportioned. It should be emphasized once more that, although the cult of the dead and the cult of the saints share the same ideology and belief complex, and although dead souls function structurally as saints in the discharge of the local folk religion, the cult of the dead as embodied in one, two, and occasionally three mayordomias is on the whole more important and extensive than the cult of the saints embodied in any complex of other mayordomias. The emphasis is warranted because this position of the cult of the dead seems to be quite prevalent in Mesoamerican folk religion, and yet it has not been mentioned previously in the ethnographic literature. Finally, the entertainment dimension and value of the activities of the mayordomia system must be mentioned. Lacking radio, motion pictures, and television, the people of rural Tlaxcala, children and adults alike, look forward with pleasure and excitement to the socializing and interaction entailed by the mayordomia complex. Any adequate theory of secularization for rural Tlaxcala, and for many other areas of Mesoamerica by extension, would have to take account of this variable. Survivals in the Public Cult of the Dead It was observed earlier (see chapters 6 and 7) that the private cult of the dead contains many pre-Hispanic components: some in vestigial form, but probably an equal number in fully recognizable form, that is, as they were functioning at the time of the conquest. This is not the case with the public cult of the dead, for most of its pre-Hispanic components are bare survivals, many of them rather difficult to identify and only a handful of them functioning aspects of the contemporary folk religion. A few examples will illuminate this point and at the same time illustrate the structural and ideological interactions in the contemporary setting of the cult of the dead. 1 In chapter z, the survival in several communities of the Xocotl Huetzi, as embodied in the ceremony of erecting a tree-cross at the entrance of the cemetery on August 10, was described; and in chapter 3, the relationship of this ceremony with the hermandad de las animas de la buena muerte was discussed. The survival of the ceremony was interpreted in terms of fertility overtones and as a symbolic propitiation for good crops. In this survival, the symbolic discharge and manifest 283

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goal of the ceremonial complex have retained a basic pre-Hispanic character: the same belief system is at work, the souls of the dead are the main conduit of the propitiation, and the supplication is addressed to comparable higher supernaturals. The changes are that the ceremony of the tree-cross erection and complementary events is a much simplified version of the pre-Hispanic complex; the supernatural personages are different (Saint Lawrence and El Cuatlapanga have replaced Tlaloc, Chalchiuhtlicue, and other fertility gods as supernatural dispensers); and the ceremony is no longer an integral part of the local folk religion. It appears, however, that as late as the turn of the century the tree-cross ceremony was, together with several associated rites, a widespread functional component of the regional folk religion. After the private and public cults of the dead achieved a degree of stabilized divergence by the end of the eighteenth century, the public cult has been slowly undergoing a process of change and attrition. Yet despite the differential changes, the private and public cults of the dead remain buttressed and underlain by essentially the same belief system and ideology that governed the relationship of propitiation and supplication between the social group and the supernatural pantheon, mediated by the souls of the dead. However, the public components of the cult of the dead, as exemplified by the tree-cross ceremony, are still ideologically pre-Hispanic, but they are now discharged within the folk-Catholic context of the local religion; while the private component of the cult of the dead is both ideologically and structurally closer to the pre-Hispanic situation, is discharged within an essentially folk-pagan context, and is often camouflaged by convergences between pre-Hispanic and Catholic concepts. Another example of the differential nature of survivals and their articulation in local folk religion comes from the community of San Bartolome Cuahuixmatla, where the main sponsorship concerned with the cult of the dead is the mayordomia de las benditas animas del purgatorio. Like its counterpart or counterparts in many other communities, this mayordomia sponsors the four fixed occasions dedicated to the cult of the dead. In addition, its personnel (the mayordomo, two tequihuas, and four topiles) have the ceremonial task, perhaps unique among these communities, of making offerings to "los guardianes del agua y de la montana" (the guardians of the water and of the mountain), as one informant put it. During the vigils of May 8 and May 15, the personnel of the mayordomia, accompanied by a rather large entourage composed of members of the ayuntamiento religioso and a number of other people, go in procession to a small spring and the brook that flows from it, bearing a specially prepared ofrenda. One or 284

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two days before the vigils, the wives of the mayordomo and the tequihuas trek to the slopes of La Malintzi to gather ocoxochitl twigs. Upon returning to the house of the mayordomo, they proceed to make three wreaths, each approximately two feet in diameter. Meanwhile, the wives of the topiles have brought to the house a medium-size cazuela of mole de huajolote, a small chiquihuite of tlacotonales, and a cajete of ponche. On May 7 and 14, after dark, usually between 9 and 10 p.m., the processions leave the house of the mayordomo for the spring; the wives of the mayordomo and the tequihuas carry the wreaths, the wives of the topiles carry the containers with the offerings, and most of the men carry lighted candles. At the spring, the mayordomo and the tequihuas place two wreaths at the northern and southern edges of the spring, and the third wreath is placed at the edge of the westward-flowing brook some ten yards from the spring. A wooden cross decorated with ribbons is placed at the eastern edge of the spring by a couple of padrinos especially chosen for the occasion. The official tezitlazc of the community is the most important officiant at the ceremony. After the ofrenda is in place, the tezitlazc, facing La Malintzi and El Cuatlapanga, supplicates and entreats the tutelary owners of the mountain and hill; he asks them for rain and for good weather for the proper maturation of the crops. Then, as the company kneels around the spring and upper part of the brook, the mayordomo, on behalf of the entire community, entreats Saint Michael the Archangel and Saint Isidore to the same effect. After the ceremony, the company walks back to the house of the mayordomo for a ceremonial repast. The ceremony is exactly the same for the two vigils; new wreaths are made, fresh offerings prepared, and new containers used. On the octava of May 15, the tezitlazc collects the wreaths and containers, burns and smashes them, and scatters the debris on certain secret places on the slopes of La Malintzi and El Cuatlapanga. 3 This ceremony is almost certainly a direct survival from pre-Hispanic times. The descriptions in the sixteenth-century sources, especially Sahagun and Duran, clearly show the great concern of the inhabitants of Central Mexico with the propitiation of the tutelary mountain owners in their environment, probably regarded as the main sources of protection for the agricultural cycle. The most likely candidate for the predecessor of this particular ceremony is the complex of ritual activity in the thirteenth month of Tepeilhuitl, which fell largely during the month of October, for there are similarities in the context of the offerings, the structure of the events, and the place where they take place. Sahagun (i956:vol. 1,199-201) says that in the month of Tepeilhuitl the people used to make a number of confections of tzoalli in the form of moun285

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tains, snakes, children, and bones. They also made wreaths of heno (Spanish for "moss," and thus quite possibly ocoxochitl itself, given the fact that they are both parasites on pine trees) and zacate (grass), placed the tzoalli and other offerings on them, and offered the ensemble to the owners of the mountains in shrines located at the edge of water, during the vigil of the main feast of Tepeilhuitl. The context of Sahagun's description makes clear the intimate connection between the worship of dead souls and the propitiation of the mountains (see chapter 2), as he says that this occasion celebrated and remembered those who had died by drowning and lightning. The similarities between this ceremony in Tepeilhuitl and the ceremony at the spring of Cuahuixmatla today are surely not coincidental. On the other hand, the time and object of the events are different: the ceremony of Tepeilhuitl probably took place in early October, when the rainy season was over and the crops were almost ready to be harvested, and the event was essentially an act of thanksgiving and intensification; whereas the ceremony in Cuahuixmatla takes place in early or middle May, when the rainy season is about to begin and the crops are barely two feet tall, and the event is essentially an act of supplication and propitiation. But these discrepancies are common in syncretic situations, and within the context of Tlaxcalan syncretism, they conform to the outline that has been developed elsewhere (see Nutini and Bell 1980:287-388; Nutini and Isaac 1974:399-444; Nutini 1976). What is interesting to notice in this example is that the syncretic synthesis that characterizes the ceremony in Cuahuixmatla today is closer to the pre-Hispanic than to the sixteenth-century Catholic component out of which it arose. First, while one can only surmise that the veneration for El Cuatlapanga is of pre-Hispanic origin, that for La Malintzi, conceived as the supernatural owner of the mountain, most certainly is. Sahagun (i956:vol. 1, 200) says that during the feast of Tepeilhuitl several women were sacrificed to the gods of the mountains, and that one of them was called Matlalcue, obviously the victim in honor of Matlalcueyec, the original owner of La Malintzi mountain. Second, although the cult of the dead has comparable positions in the Pre-Hispanic and Catholic religions, there is no counterpart in the latter to the worship and propitiation of mountains. Third, although Saint Michael the Archangel and Saint Isidore are evoked in the ceremony, even they are related to pre-Hispanic beliefs. According to tradition, Saint Michael is one of the three main equestrian saints (the others being Saint Martin and Saint James). Most often, he is pictorially represented in armor with lance, sword, and helmet. According to the folk belief, quite widespread throughout Central Mexico and possibly in other areas of Latin 286

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America and the Mediterranean world, wherever Saint Michael taps the ground with his lance, water springs from the earth. Thus, it is evident that for rural Tlaxcalans, Saint Michael is associated with water and growth. 4 Saint Isidore (of Seville, the encyclopaedist, theologian, and archbishop of that city in the seventh century) has been the patron saint of agriculture in Spanish Catholicism since the early Middle Ages. May 8 celebrates the apparition of Saint Michael, while May 15 is the day of Saint Isidore. These are associations which could easily be anchored to the pre-Hispanic worship of the gods of the mountains. Fourth, the embedding of the Cuahuixmatla ceremony and its actors in the annual cycle of the mayordomia of the blessed souls in purgatory indicates connections with the personnel and some of the ritual-ceremonial functions of the old polytheistic cult of the dead. Fifth and finally, the contemporary ceremony at the spring itself is essentially pagan and probably never had a Catholic counterpart of any sort. On the one hand, one notices the arrangement of the offerings around the spring in the classic orientation toward the four cardinal points of the compass, so much a part of several pre-Hispanic rites and ceremonies. On the other hand, the setting up of the cross at the eastern edge of the spring reflects the endowment of this Christian symbol with fertility overtones that it never had in its original context. In Europe, the cross may have had a protective attribute (witness the references to crosses erected at crossroads), but in Central Mexico, and probably in most of Mesoamerica, the cross acquired a major fertility attribute (witness the crosses erected on milpas and at water springs during the month of May), which is still prevalent today. A third example of survivals has to do mainly with the administrative aspects of the mayordomias of the cult of the dead. An examination of the functions and activities of the personnel of the sponsorships associated with the blessed souls in heaven and purgatory (as well as those of the personnel associated with all other mayordomias in rural Tlaxcala) reveals the hierarchization of positions that Carrasco (1961) has termed the "ladder system." The phenomenon has been discussed elsewhere (Nutini and Bell 1980:3iz-331), but it may be added here that the mayordomias of the cult of the dead in rural Tlaxcala are particularly suited to its study. As has been noted previously (see chapter 3), the libros de cofradias dealing with these sponsorships are among the oldest for any comparable region of Mesoamerica, and their analysis can undoubtedly illuminate the syncretic process of the mayordomia system in general, the structuring of specific responsibilities, the configuration of positions, and perhaps some of the functional equivalents in the pre-Hispanic polytheistic system, centered in the calmecac (priestly 287

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houses), the telpochcallis (men's houses), and the military organizations. More immediately relevant, the functions and activities of the various mayordomias of the cult of the dead give us clues about the inputs of the pre-Hispanic priestly organization, independent of the lay organizations (centered in the stewardships, brotherhoods, and sodalities introduced by the Franciscan friars) that originally shaped the syncretic development of the ayuntamiento religioso in the sixteenth century. La Llorada, the decoration and arrangement of the cemetery, the Christmas posadas, and several other ritual and ceremonial events may be regarded as functions of the mayordomos and their assistants that go beyond the normal responsibilities of local folk-Catholic lay hierarchies. When all the essentially pagan rites and ceremonies officiated or sponsored by the ayuntamiento religioso in rural Tlaxcala are catalogued and analyzed, a number of patterns emerge that are useful in reconstructing the pre-Hispanic inputs and the nature of the process of syncretism. This is particularly the case with the role and position of the tezitlazc: prayer leader, mediator between the community and the masters of the natural elements, dispenser of protective devices, and main officiant at ritual cleansings and at several rites of supplication and intensification. These attributes of the tezitlazc, and of several other nonCatholic practitioners as well, can be traced to a highly diversified category of pre-Hispanic supernatural practitioners that fall roughly into the subcategories of priest and magician (sorcerer and shaman). A final example may be offered that is tentative and inconclusive, but that helps demonstrate the methodology of syncretic studies, at least in Mesoamerica. In addition to the Todos Santos cycle, the cult of the dead is celebrated on four occasions, which are associated with specific objects of worship and propitiation. These four occasions may have ideological or structural pre-Hispanic antecedents as well as Catholicfolk antecedents. For example, January 5 and February 2 have been associated respectively with the blessed souls in purgatory and in heaven in both orthodox and folk Catholicism for at least five centuries; but June 26 and December 16 do not have such antecedents, and they are rather of local, that is, Central Mexican, origin. This and several other clues lead to the suggestion that all four occasions represent syncretic junctures with significant pre-Hispanic components. Two areas of investigation may prove useful in providing firmer evidence. First, and most obvious, is the search for symbolic correlations and ritual-ceremonial survivals that would link the four contemporary celebrations of dead souls, other than Todos Santos, with the closest calendrical celebrations of dead souls in pre-Hispanic times. If a case could be made for associating January 5 with the seventeenth month of Tititl, Febru288

IMPLICATIONS OF THE CULT OF THE DEAD

ary 2 with the eighteenth month of Izcalli, June 26 with the fifth month of Toxcatl, and December 16 with the fourteenth month of Quecholli, one would have the beginning of an explanation (see chapter 2). Second is the search for ritual and ceremonial survivals in the communities of rural Tlaxcala that were still traditional in the 1980s concerning not only the cult of the dead, but probably more profitably in the extensive context of anthropomorphic supernaturalism, that is, witchcraft, sorcery, and the beliefs about tutelary mountain owners. (Published sources and archival materials, local or foreign, with the possible exception of the oldest libros de cofradia, are not likely to yield results in these searches.) The foregoing examples indicate in broad outline some of the preHispanic beliefs underlying the public cult of the dead in rural Tlaxcala. They also reveal the monistic ideology of the cult of the dead at work within a pluralistic structural discharge, patterned along the private-public axis and along the continuum from pre-Hispanic to syncretic to Catholic. These are important issues in understanding the folk religion of rural Tlaxcala. In the absence of available ethnohistorical information, extrapolation has been made from the ethnographic present to the pre-Hispanic situation and vice versa. This method of reconstructing the syncretic composition of the cult of the dead and several other aspects of regional folk Catholicism has yielded good results, and it should be used more extensively by anthropologists working Mesoamerica. MECHANISMS OF SACRALIZATION

The cult of the dead is an integral part of the cult of the saints, and the combined cults stand at the center of rural Tlaxcalan folk Catholicism. They are embodied and given public expression in the mayordomia system, they are regulated by the ayuntamiento religioso, and they constitute the central concern of all traditional and transitional communities. Furthermore, they serve to sacralize interpersonal relationships at both the individual and the communal level. This sacralization function is the subject of this section. The Role of Personal Ofrendas In the traditional rural Tlaxcalan community—and traditional communities are still in the majority in this region—the social, economic, religious, and, to a degree, political universes are composed of four types of interpersonal relationships. These are consanguineal kinship, 289

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affinal kinship, compadrazgo, and friendship. These categories are arranged on an ideological scale that the people articulate in terms of "respect" (respeto) (see Nutini 1984:143-151), reflecting structural preferences in generating resources and activating cooperation in personal and community affairs. On this scale, consanguineal kin occupy the highest rank, followed by compadres (including ahijados), affinal kin, and friends, in that order. Consanguineal kin are comprised of the members of the household (nuclear and extended families) and sometimes also of the nonresidential extended family, but almost never include the members of larger kinship units, such as kindreds or demes, which are for all practical purposes unrecognized. Consanguineal kin and compadres are conceived as constituting one's "natural" or "inherent" (de nacion) social grouping, a conglomerate of people over whose composition one has little or no choice. These two types of relationships are regarded as sacred, insofar as they emanate from the natural order which is the will of God (a collective term used here to denote the pantheon of both Catholic and pagan supernaturals), and those involved are therefore bound by the laws of God to help one another. Affinal kinsmen and friends, on the other hand, are regarded as acquired—though not necessarily "artificial"—sets of individuals with whom one comes into interaction as the result of deliberate choice and with particular ends in view. These are not "profane" relationships, but neither are they sacred. Rural Tlaxcalans believe that, in interpersonal relationships and the conduct of social affairs, sacred relationships work best. Social actors in most domains of life thus strive to reinforce compadrazgo and to sacralize affinal kinship and friendship relationships.' The main vehicle of sacralization is the personal ofrenda. The personal ofrenda may be conceived of as an act of intensification, atonement, thanksgiving, or propitiation. Whatever its physical and symbolic goal, there is no question that it was modeled after the household ofrenda. The personal ofrenda is a "gift" in Mauss's terms, a lubricant that smoothes the conduct of interpersonal relationships, which in most folk societies are in one degree or another sacralized. In strictly sociological terms, sacralization means essentially the conduct of interpersonal relationships with a minimum of utilitarian value. The aim of sacralization is to maximize the achievement of common goals, sometimes corporate ends, within a context that emphasizes the direct or indirect influence of the supernatural in human affairs. It is the belief in such an influence that keeps the community traditional. Because it is most often presented in a round basket without handles, the personal ofrenda is also known as the chiquihuite; indeed, the latter 290

IMPLICATIONS OF THE CULT OF THE DEAD

is the more usual term. (In some communities, the word used is "canasta," for the same reason.) The most common institutionalized personal ofrenda is the chiquihuite de pedimento, literally the "ofrenda of request," which is brought when an individual or group of kinsmen or unrelated persons asks for a bride in marriage, for a new compadrazgo relationship, for a nomination to the ayuntamiento religioso, and so on. The composition of the ofrenda varies with the occasion and context. Personal ofrendas exchanged during Todos Santos contain something of what is prepared for the dead, usually pan de muertos and fruits, and sometimes confections and treats. Most chiquihuites de pedimento include fine fruits, sweet bread, liquor, and perhaps flowers, while most chiquihuites de agradecimiento, or ofrendas of thanksgiving, include what has been prepared for the occasion on which they are given, usually an olla of some kind of cooked dish (mole de huajalote, mole prieto, barbacoa, pipian), tortillas, and tamales. Personal ofrendas presented at special ceremonies require a particular offering associated with the occasion: for the betrothal of a couple, the household of the groom presents the bride with a highly decorated ceremonial candle (vela Maria); at the end of the wedding celebration in the house of the groom, the parents of the bride and the three main sets of wedding padrinos are individually presented with live, ribbon-decorated turkeys (tequixquitnic huexolotl); and so on. The relationships involved in the presentation of personal ofrendas or chiquihuites are those of compadrazgo, affinal kinship, and friendship. No instances were observed of its use to atone for lack of participation or ayuda, to seek or intensify present or future participation, or to give thanks for past participation or ayuda beyond the confines of the nonresidential extended family. (The unilineal structure of San Bernardino Contla is an exception. In this municipio, the chiquihuite is used to generate participation and ayuda among lineage and clan members. In the overwhelming majority of rural Tlaxcalan communities, there are no bilaterally organized groups of kinsmen with a strong corporate orientation beyond the nonresidential extended family. Hence, the concept of a natural, sacred group of kinsmen, where there is no need for ofrendas, is confined to this rather circumscribed kinship group.) Given the patrilineal bias of the bilateral kinship system of rural Tlaxcala, the use of the ofrenda among affinal kinsmen is restricted to the husband-wife and the three other nuclear-family dyads, especially the consuegros (co-parents-in-law). Thus, it is found almost exclusively in the contexts of marriage and the family, the household, the nonresidential extended family, the entire array of ritual kinship types, the mayordomia system, the ayuntamiento religioso, and the ritual-cer291

CHAPTER 9

emonial annual cycle—in short, the socioreligious core of community culture and society. The main kinds of persons who give or receive ofrendas or chiquihuites are individual males and females, both chil­ dren and adults; individual compadres and comadres; individual ahijados and ahijadas; married and unmarried (not necessarily cohabit­ ing) couples; nuclear and extended family households; nonresidential extended families; groups and networks of compadres (male and fe­ male); personnel of mayordomias; groups of mayordomias; the ayuntamiento religioso; an entire barrio; and an entire community. The interdigitation of these categories of actors with the occasions on which ofrendas are given and received, the reciprocal or nonreciprocal nature of the offerings, and the time and place of the ceremonies in effect con­ stitute a map of the junctures, domains, and contexts of the discharge of all significant interpersonal, group, and communal relationships in rural Tlaxcala. The details of the analysis cannot be presented here, but the essentially network approach that it entails is to be presented in an­ other work (White and Nutini, forthcoming). Ofrendas or chiquihuites are offered or exchanged at certain periods of the socioreligious cycle, at set times or occasions in the ritual-cere­ monial cycle, and on sporadic occasions throughout the year, some­ times on the spur of the moment. The most common institutionalized periods are Todos Santos, especially from November ζ to November 5; the days of the posadas, from December 16 through December Z5; the days between the fiesta of the patron saint of the community and the octava of that fiesta; and, in some communities, between Palm Sunday and Easter Sunday. Most of the ofrendas of these periods are reciprocal exchanges, but not infrequently nonreciprocal ofrendas are offered by individuals in positions of subordination. The ofrendas at set times or occasions in the ritual-ceremonial cycle are almost invariably nonre­ ciprocal, involving fellow officials in the ayuntamiento religioso or mayordomia and other groups of compadres, usually designed to intensify or foster communal or group participation and help. The most impor­ tant occasions in this category are centered on the selection or nomi­ nation, pedimento, and related efforts to generate support for religious officials and officiants and the various functions and activities they sponsor. The ofrendas of sporadic occasions may be on a reciprocal or nonreciprocal basis, exchanged or presented for reasons spanning practically the entire socioreligious spectrum. A fuller explication of this categorization rests upon a more precise understanding of the terms "reciprocal" and "nonreciprocal." Reciprocal ofrendas are exchanges between individuals, couples, or groups occupying similar social, economic, or religious positions 292

IMPLICATIONS OF THE CULT OF THE DEAD

within well-defined complexes. Nonreciprocal ofrendas are offerings from individuals, couples, or groups in positions of social, economic, or religious subordination to actors in positions of superordination to them. Reciprocity in this context is not ascribed; rather, it is achieved through a series of steps, which begin in nonreciprocity. The shift from nonreciprocal to reciprocal ofrenda means that a relationship has become symmetrical and stands on a footing of equality. Two examples will illustrate these points, (i) Most compadrazgo relationships begin with a nonreciprocal ofrenda presented by those asking for the relationship to those being asked. As the bonds among the compadres become stabilized and the relationship becomes permanent, the parties begin to exchange ofrendas reciprocally on more or less fixed occasions during the year. (2) Members of the ayuntamiento religioso for a given year may have presented nonreciprocal ofrendas for the recruitment of certain positions, but after the discharge of their offices, fiscales and their assistants may develop regular exchanges of ofrendas on a reciprocal basis to commemorate their year in office and as a way of intensifying future interactions. The most common kinds of reciprocal ofrendas are the spontaneous exchanges among neighbors, fellow workers, members of common-interest groups, and so on, which in the scheme of social things in rural Tlaxcala signifies the movement of these relationships toward the category of friendship. Thus, reciprocal ofrenda exchanges may be characterized as spontaneous, not entirely institutionalized, but ultimately stable as the result of initially asymmetrical actions. Conversely, nonreciprocal ofrendas are not spontaneous, are almost entirely institutionalized, and are in the main transitory. Although most nonreciprocal ofrendas are eventually resolved into reciprocal exchanges, as the above discussion indicated, some remain permanently nonreciprocal. These are the ones that obtain between individuals and couples in relationships of subordination-superordination, socially or symbolically. This is the case, for instance, in at least some communities, in the relationship between a married couple and the wife's parents: the former must present an ofrenda to the latter on Todos Santos or during the posadas. (Interestingly, there is no such prescription for a married couple and the husband's parents.) At least in theory, this is a lifelong relationship. It is also the case between ahijados and padrinos: the former must present to the latter an ofrenda on their name day. But when ahijados become compadres of their padrinos, the subordinate status is abolished and the ofrenda becomes an exchange among individuals of equal social and symbolic status. Transitory nonreciprocal ofrendas, on the other hand, are conditioned on a status difference between the actors 293

CHAPTER 9

involved which is eventually eliminated; the relationship subsequently involves a reciprocal exchange. In summary, reciprocal ofrendas are exchanged among actors on a footing of social, economic, and religious equality; permanent nonreciprocal ofrendas are presented by individuals in enduring subordinate social, symbolic, and religious positions; and transitory nonreciprocal ofrendas are single offerings that normally develop into reciprocal exchanges. The contents of personal ofrendas can now be described in detail, in a format similar to that used in the description of the household ofrenda and altar (chapter 6). Each one will be characterized as reciprocal (r) or nonreciprocal (n), and its symbolic goal will be given—propitiation (p), intensification (i), thanksgiving (t), and/or atonement (a). Its permanent or transitory nature will be evident from the time or occasion of the presentation. (I) Individual males and females. (A) Children and youngsters: (i) A bouquet of flowers to baptismal padrinos upon finding a twin fruit or vegetable, (n; p) (2) On the name day of baptismal and twin-fruit or twin-vegetable padrino and madrina. (n; i, t) (3) Flowers, fruits or vegetables to the child Jesus in the Holy Manger for Christmas, (n; p, i) (4) A bouquet of flowers (personally picked by the culprits) to parents or grandparents after an episode of serious misbehavior, (n; a) (This is one of the three or four instances when the ofrenda is used among consanguineal kin.) (5) Flowers and candles to saints and images that have been sponsored by young padrinos and madrinas. (n; i) (B) Adults: (1) A bouquet of flowers to baptismal or marriage padrinos upon finding a twin fruit or vegetable, (n; p) (2) On the name day of baptismal and marriage padrino and madrina. (n; i, t) (3) Flowers, fruits, or bread to the cruz de Mayo (May cross, usually erected at a spring, prominent hill, or ravine), (n; p, i) (4) An elaborate chiquihuite of fruit, bread, liquor, and flowers by a young man to the injured party and his or her family for serious transgressions, such as rape, physical injury, and slander, (n; a) (5) An elaborate chiquihuite by a young woman to her parents and household after eloping and returning home either unmarried or in "free union." (n; a) (This is another exception to the rule.) (6) A bouquet of flowers and candles once a year for three consecutive years to a saint, Virgin, or Christ in church after a manda has been granted, (n; t) (There are many variations of all of these ofrendas.) (II) Male-female couples. (A) Married couples: (1) Exchanges with important compadres (usually of baptism, erection of a burial or other cross, marriage, and limpia) during Todos Santos, (r; p, i) (2) Exchanges with particularly important friendly couples (usually with the possibility in mind of transforming them into compadres) during To294

IMPLICATIONS OF THE CULT OF THE DEAD

dos Santos, (r or η; ρ or i) (3) Exchanges with less important compadres (at least five or six compadrazgo types may be involved) during the days of the posadas. (r; p, i) (4) Exchanges with a limited number of friendly couples (as a pool of potential compadres and acompanantes for reli­ gious offices) during the days of the posadas. (r or η; ρ or i) (5) A bou­ quet of flowers to the two or three most prominent couples in a couple's compadrazgo network on their name day. (η; ρ or i) (6) A bouquet of flowers or a chiquihuite to prominent members of the ayuntamiento religioso and/or the steward of the most important mayordomias on the day of the fiesta they sponsor, (η; ρ or i) (7) On occasions such as (I-B3) and (I-B-4) when the action of an individual affects the couple (and by extension the nuclear family as a whole), (n; a or t) (8) A bouquet of flowers for four consecutive years during Todos Santos to the burialcross padrinos of a man or woman who died in a highway accident (usually by the parents of the deceased), (n; t) (B) Unmarried couples (a rare category, which exists only when the padrino and madrina of a particular compadrazgo or religious sponsorship are not married): (1) On a limited number of occasions having to do with compadrazgo sponsorships, (r or η; ρ or i) (2) On a limited number of occasions hav­ ing to do with religious sponsorships, (r or η; ρ or i) (III) Kinship groups. (A) Nuclear and extended households: (1) Ex­ change of chiquihuites during Todos Santos with affinal households in­ volved in repeated intermarriage of members, (r; ρ or i) (2) Exchange of chiquihuites during Todos Santos with compadrazgo-related house­ holds of repeated relationships, (r; ρ or i) (3) Ofrenda to the blessed souls in heaven and purgatory for Todos Santos, (r, n; p, i, t, a) (4) An elaborate chiquihuite to another household for serious transgression committed against it for which collective responsibility is assumed, (n; a) (B) Nonresidential extended families: (1) Ofrenda to the blessed souls in heaven and purgatory for Todos Santos, (r, n; p, i, t, a) (2) An elaborate chiquihuite to another nonresidential extended family for a serious transgression committed against it for which collective respon­ sibility is assumed, (n; a) (3) An elaborate chiquihuite to an organized group of people (kinship group, compadrazgo network, ayuntamiento religioso, group of mayordomias, and so on) in order to generate par­ ticipation and ayuda. (η; ρ or i) (IV) Ritual kinship and religious groups. (A) Multiple dyad and com­ padrazgo networks: (1) An elaborate chiquihuite by a group of four or five closely related compadres (and their families) to another compa­ rable group in order to generate participation and ayuda. (n; p, i) (2) An elaborate chiquihuite by a compadrazgo network (usually involving ten or more relationships and extensions) to a comparable network in 295

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order to generate participation and ayuda. (n; p, i) (3) An elaborate chi­ quihuite by a compadrazgo network to a group of people in order to generate participation and ayuda. (η; ρ or i) (B) Mayordomias and the ayuntamiento religioso: (1) A chiquihuite by the officers of one mayordomia to those of another as an invitation to participate in an event or a cycle of rites and ceremonies, (n; p) (z) Exchange of ofrendas among two or more mayordomias for the intensification and enhance­ ment of a particular event or cycle, (r; p, i) (3) A chiquihuite to an or­ ganized group of people in order to generate participation and ayuda. (η; ρ or i) (4) A chiquihuite to an organized group of people in order to generate participation in and contributions for the organization of im­ portant communal celebrations, (n; p, i) (5) A bouquet of flowers to a community's tezitlazc for services in stopping hail, making rain, and other aspects of weather control, (n; t) (V) Territorial units. (A) Parajes and barrios: (1) A chiquihuite by a committee of paraje members to an organized social group in order to generate participation in and attendance at paraje festivities and cele­ brations, (n; p, i) (2) A chiquihuite by the mayordomos of the fiesta of the patron saint of the barrio to an organized group of people in order to generate participation and attendance, (n; p, i) (3) A bouquet of flowers by paraje and barrio members to the tezitlazc for services in controlling the weather, (n; t) (B) The community as a whole: (1) A bouquet of flowers by the fiscales to the padrinos of communal festivi­ ties and ritual affairs (such as bedding of the child Jesus in church, the coronation of the Virgin Mary, and various communal rites of intensi­ fication) for their services during the preceding three years, (n, t) (2) An elaborate chiquihuite by the fiscales, on behalf of the entire community, to their counterparts in a neighboring community for the fiesta of the latter's patron saint, as atonement for a transgression or any frictioncausing reason, (r; a, t, or p) (VI) The pedimento. The concept of pedimento is a crucial part of the web of interpersonal relationships in rural Tlaxcala, and the pedimento is the most common occasion for personal ofrendas. Every category of social actors, from single individuals to the entire community, engages in pedimentos of several kinds, the most common of which are the fol­ lowing: for marriage; for seeking compadres, padrinos, and sponsors of any type; for selecting and nominating officials to the mayordomias and the ayuntamiento religioso; and in general for choosing sponsors for any person, object, event, or occasion that requires ritual or cere­ monial sponsorship, with or without the benefit of ritual kinship. The main manifest and symbolic function of the pedimento ofrenda is pro­ pitiation on the part of those asking for the relationship not only to296

IMPLICATIONS OF THE CULT OF THE DEAD

ward the end that the ensuing action be favorable but also to ensure that those asked will do their best to achieve the ostensible goals of the action. If the pedimento is repeated, as is the case in several situations, the ofrenda also has the latent function of intensification. This discussion may be concluded with three general observations. First, in terms of number of occasions, nonreciprocal ofrendas are by far the most common; but in terms of frequency of actual exchanges, most ofrendas are reciprocal. Second, the range of incidence extends from very low, e.g. (I-B-5) and (V-B-2.), to almost universal. But there is hardly a domain of the social, religious, or even political spectrum that is outside the boundaries of action of the personal ofrenda. Third, propitiation and intensification, singly or together, are the most common goals, while atonement is the lowest and thanksgiving occupies an intermediary position. In summary, the presentation and exchange of personal ofrendas, originally modeled after the ofrenda to dead souls for Todos Santos, may be thought of as a map portraying the patterns of all significant interpersonal behavior in rural Tlaxcala. Periodic Sacralization of Communal

Relationships

Many societies have had specific days or periods of time that may be characterized as special or "sacred," when activities depart from those of normal life. The Romans had the festival of Lupercalia and the days associated with the lares and penates, and the medieval Europeans had fixed periods associated with the birth and death of Christ, as well as sporadic periods known as the pax ecclesiae and treuga Dei (Truce of God), usually unsuccessful attempts by the church to sacralize time and thereby prohibit fighting and warfare during Lent, Advent, and other periods (Dupuy and Dupuy 1970:184). (In Spain, it appears that a Truce of God for Lent and Holy Week did work for the Christians, in exchange for Ramadan, a sacralized period among Moslems.) Christian ideas concerning the sacralization of time were brought to the Indians of the New World by the mendicant friars and became syncretized with similar ideas of pre-Hispanic origin. Indeed, pre-Hispanic religion may have had as many sacralized as normal days in its calendar, and perhaps more. It is therefore not surprising that seventy-five days of the year are now regarded as sacred in rural Tlaxcala. Three sacralized periods have been mentioned here before: Christmas-Candlemas, from the beginning of the posadas to the blessing of the seeds and animals (December 16 to February z); Holy Week, from the first official event of the passion to the Octava de Pascua (Palm Sunday to the Sunday after Easter); and Todos Santos, from the day of the setting 297

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up of the first specialized ofrenda to the octava of Todos Santos (October 27 to November 9). What needs to be stressed now is that these periods are not only religiously sacred but also sociologically important, because during them there is a marked improvement in the conduct of social affairs and interpersonal relationships at least in traditional and transitional communities. Christmas, Holy Week, and Todos Santos were observed as sacralized periods throughout both urban and rural Mexico until many years after the Mexican Revolution of 1910. Even as late as the mid-i930S, provincial cities such as Puebla, Orizaba, and Toluca, and many others in the Central Mexican Highlands, were literally closed down for at least Holy Friday (Good Friday) and Holy Saturday, and the people acted with the quiet and circumspection that befit such a momentous occasion for traditional Christians. In his important book on the streets of Puebla, Leicht (1934:143) says that during Holy Week the city became "medieval," the people were especially courteous to one another, and even street vendors did not cheat their customers. After the Second World War, this sacred ambiance survived in the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley only in the villages. Most rural Tlaxcalan communities are fairly closely integrated, both physically and sociologically. These communities are plagued by gossip, intrigue, envy, jealousy, and occasional bouts of violence. Rural Tlaxcalans are not particularly aggressive or violent, homicides and crimes of passion are rare, and the people are generally ready to negotiate or submit to arbitration in dealing with serious transgressions and disputes. But they are also testy, stubborn, and proud. These mildly contrary attributes in the modal personality of the rural Tlaxcalan are usually kept in check by a number of mechanisms, the most salient being the sacralization of interpersonal and of communal relationships. The best example of the former is the compadrazgo system, which has already been discussed in this and previous works (Nutini 1984; Nutini and Bell 1980). The latter is best illustrated by the three main sacralized periods. In every aspect, rural Tlaxcalans are on their best behavior during Christmas-Candlemas, Holy Week, and Todos Santos. These are periods not only of almost continuous ritual and ceremonial activity but also of the intensification of interpersonal relationships. They are the periods when most of the pedimentos for religious office are made, when most exchanges of personal ofrendas take place, and when important new compadrazgo relationships are initiated. Moreover, during these periods fights are avoided, petty grievances are held in check, transgressions and injuries momentarily forgiven, and in general peo298

IMPLICATIONS OF THE CULT OF THE DEAD

pie try to behave as amiably and as generously as possible with all with whom they come into contact. For some, of course, this is an artificial situation; they go along with it because it is pleasant and they can take advantage of it. But the majority of rural Tlaxcalans do not seem to take this cynical attitude; rather, they truly believe that, in one way or another, they have been touched by the hand of the supernatural watching over them, and their resultant behavior leads to many validating experiences. The sacred nature of the three periods has been strongly influenced by the highly ritualistic nature of rural Tlaxcalan religion, with its unmistakable pre-Hispanic flavor. Christmas, Holy Week, and Todos Santos have developed into ritual and ceremonial occasions for reflecting about man's existence, his relationship to the supernatural powers, and the intensification of the bonds that unite individuals and groups. Thus, the conduct of rural Tlaxcalans during these periods is marked by restraint, circumspection, formality, gravity, and a readiness to accommodate. The people avoid situations that may lead to friction or confrontation, and they do not indulge in excessive drinking. The normal ritualism and ceremonialism of rural Tlaxcalan life becomes exaggerated, and to the outsider, much of it seems to be stilted and almost a caricature. The strain and the somewhat negative affect that this kind of behavior generates is well worth it to most people, who regard these periods as a respite from the gossiping, jealousy, envy, and nastiness which characterize much of communal life during the rest of the year. Moreover, the restraint and formality of the sacralized periods are seen by the people as opportunities for attaining some social, economic, or religious end that could not be attained under normal circumstances. In other words, sacralized periods are regarded by rural Tlaxcalans as times for relaxation, when they can let their guard down. Counterbalancing these sacralized periods are "profane" periods, when rural Tlaxcalans can be merry and expansive, get drunk, act boisterously and aggressively, and in general not concern themselves about the consequences of their more foolish actions. Such occasions are carnival time, the fiesta of the patron saint and several other religious fiestas, pilgrimages, and occasional dances, weddings, and ceremonial meals. Some of these obviously occur at irregular times during the year, but Carnival and the week of the fiesta of the patron saint are analogous to sacralized periods. They represent the more or less institutionalized occasions when rural Tlaxcalans display their most expansive and unencumbered behavior, enjoying a latitude of expression totally inadmissible during sacralized time and frowned upon during the rest of the year. Looked at from this viewpoint, the sacralization of time is 299

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one of the main mechanisms regulating the behavior and expression of rural Tlaxcalans. Of the three sacralized periods, Todos Santos is unquestionably the most significant sociologically. It is not only the time when the majority of personal ofrendas are exchanged; it is also the main, if not the sole, occasion when permanent immigrants to the city return to the community to visit the kinsmen, compadres, and friends that they left behind. They intensify some of these relationships and pay homage to the dead to assure themselves of their protection. For the community, too, Todos Santos is a time of intensification, renewal, and the pleasure of seeing those one has not seen for long periods of time. To some extent, the same can be said about Holy Week, but Todos Santos, marked by the symbolic presence of the living and the dead, to the highest degree embodies the sense of community that characterizes much of rural Tlaxcalan life. Those who have gone away return to the place of their ancestors for the kind of meaning and renewal that will sustain them in the city; those who have never gone away pause and reflect that their world of existence extends beyond the confines of the community. It is also at this time that the people are most directly and collectively confronted with their pre-Hispanic pagan past. The main purpose of this chapter has been to describe the public cult of the dead, some of the underlying beliefs that have shaped it historically, and its sociological significance, and to show how it complemented and differed from the private, household-centered cult of the dead. In similar fashion, the chapter has also described the personal ofrenda as an extension of the Todos Santos ofrenda, the ways in which rural Tlaxcalans use it as a mechanism leading to the sacralization of interpersonal relationships, and the extension of sacralization to certain periods and occasions—all of which are important aspects of the social and cultural life of many Mesoamerican Indian and Mestizo communities.

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• 10 · THE IDEOLOGY AND BELIEF SYSTEM OF THE CULT OF THE DEAD

In the description and analysis up to this point, it was necessary to allude from time to time to the ideology and belief system underlying the cult of the dead in order to elucidate specific points and clarify the interaction of events and personnel. But it has not been possible to present a systematic account of this ideology and belief system and their place in rural Tlaxcalan culture and society. To do so is the aim of this chapter. Elements that have not been mentioned so far will be introduced, and the interplay between pre-Hispanic and Catholic beliefs, leading to an ideology of the cult of the dead within the Catholic-folkpagan system, will be examined.

T H E TERMINOLOGY OF THE ANALYSIS

Implicitly or explicitly, anthropologists have always made a distinction between "what is" and "what ought to be" in their conceptualizations of sociocultural phenomena. The most common designations for these concepts in anthropological discourse have been respectively "structure" and "ideology" (they have also been referred to as "custom" and "values"). Structure encompasses what people "actually do" under specified conditions, and ideology is what people "should do," again under specified conditions—i.e., the rules, injunctions, imperatives, and commands to action that characterize their culture. While it is important to make this distinction, merely doing so does not necessarily advance the conceptual task of anthropology, any more than distinguishing between infrastructure and superstructure by itself advances the scientific, explanatory goals of Marxism. Once it is accepted that all sociocultural systems have rules, injunctions, and imperatives concerning behavior, it must also be accepted that these are frequently violated. In this view, an explanation of behavior consists of determining the relationship of efficacy obtaining between what people actually do and what they should do. In other words, explanations are the determination of how, when, why, and under what conditions rules, injunctions, and imperatives are adhered to or departed from by the actors in sociocultural systems. Unless such a relationship is posited between structure and ideology, the distinction 301

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between them is useless for explanatory purposes (as is the case, for ex­ ample, with the residual conception of ideology in Marxism, and the notion in functionalism that ideology is part of structure). As a corol­ lary, an adequate, scientific explanation of a corpus of sociocultural phenomena can be stated not in terms of either ideal or actual behavior considered by itself, but only in terms of a combination of the two. From this standpoint, much of the anthropological literature has suf­ fered from emphasizing one or the other side of the dichotomy and from the polarization of studies in terms of mechanical (ideal) and sta­ tistical (actual) descriptions and explanations (Nutini 1970; 1971). It is this conception of description and explanation in anthropologi­ cal studies that has informed my work during the past fifteen years (see Nutini and Bell 1980; Nutini 1984; Nutini and Roberts, forthcoming). Although I have not formally operationalized the relationship of effi­ cacy obtaining between structure and ideology (the key component of the approach), I have been able to operationalize it informally to the extent of construing the ideological and structural domains as imping­ ing upon each other in definite ways and specific contexts. This opera­ tion is admittedly not entirely amenable to quantification, but it has nonetheless allowed me to establish the direction of causality, thereby transcending both the explanations of functionalists and the ideologi­ cal framework of structuralism. Moreover, an understanding of the dy­ namic interaction of structure and ideology makes symbolic and ex­ pressive assignment easier, especially in socioreligious studies such as the present monograph. Symbols and expressive behavior, after all, are kinds of mediators and catalyzers between what people should do and what they actually do. The distinction between ideology and structure in turn entails two efficacious levels of analysis, which have been designated elsewhere (Nutini 1984:444-458) the "ideological domain" and the "structuralideal domain." These are the conceptual entities which in this mono­ graph have been referred to respectively as the ideology and the belief system of the cult of the dead. Briefly, these are the two metalanguages (i.e., levels of analysis) that are efficacious in explaining the structural discharge of a system: the ideological domain is the more abstract, while the structural-ideal domain stands in a direct relation to actual behavior and action. In this conceptual scheme, the ideological domain has efficacy in the actual structural discharge of the circumscribed sys­ tem that has been isolated. Unlike a ideological functional system or an idealized structural system, this construct in terms of two efficacious domains does facilitate the establishment of linear causality and ex­ plains the actual discharge of behavior and action. The reason for this 302

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is that the construct is not a closed system but is activated by variables external to the system itself. Thus, once a system has beeen isolated and bounded, whatever explanation may be forthcoming is determined by the external variables acting upon it. This approach has yielded significant results in studies of the compadrazgo system (Nutini and Bell 1980; Nutini 1984) and of anthropomorphic supernaturalism (Nutini and Roberts, forthcoming) in rural Tlaxcala. It is therefore worthwhile to ascertain what the ideological domain (the ideology) and the structural-ideal domain (the belief system) consist of, ontologically and epistemologically, with reference to the problem at hand. The ideological domain may be defined as comprising the jural rules, moral constraints, imperatives to action, and value directives that underlie and shape the actual structural discharge of a bounded system or subsystem at a level below that of global sociocultural configurations. These rules, constraints, imperatives, and directives, which have also been referred to as the ideational domain, are not directly observable, nor are they deducible from the raw data of social and cultural experience. Rather, they constitute an ontological entity that is twice removed from observable phenomena. One can regard the ideological domain as a largely unconscious sociocultural sphere, in Levi-Straussian terms, and in this sense the term "ideational domain" is quite appropriate. The ideological domain is unconscious, not only in that the actors of a given system or subsystem are unaware of its basic tenets and efficacious properties, but also in that the anthropologist becomes acquainted with it only after a prolonged period of time and analysis and after assigning functional interpretations to the structural domain. It is this interrelated epistemological and ontological comlex that is being referred to here as the ideology of the cult of the dead, a well-delineated subsystem of religion in rural Tlaxcala. The structural-ideal domain, on the other hand, stands below the ideological domain and immediately adjacent to the structured facts of social experience. The structural-ideal domain, unlike the ideological, is not composed of injunctions that take the form of rules or constraints, but its component elements are expressed as definite and specific directives that implicitly take the form of "thou shall" or "thou shall not." In other words, the structural-ideal domain consists of directives ("second-level commands") that are the efficacious result of the ideological domain in operation and directly affect the discharge of behavior and action. The structural-ideal domain, then, comprises the immediate pragmatic directives shaping the structural and functional discharge of the system or subsystem under consideration. These directives are conscious, well known to the system's actors, and often ver303

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balized in detail. Again, to use the Levi-Straussian analogy, the struc­ tural-ideal domain stands to the facts and behavior of social experience in the same relationship as mechanical models stand to statistical models (Nutini 1965:707-731). The directives (beliefs) of the struc­ tural-ideal domain are statements elicited by the anthropologist, on the basis of which the independently observed facts and behaviors are in­ terpreted and positioned. Most anthropologists stop at this second level of analysis, and what is regarded as ideology is thus often nothing more than a generalized statement of the belief system of a particular sociocultural domain. What has passed for the ideology of religion in Mesoamerica, for ex­ ample, is little more than an abstracted statement of beliefs, vitiated by an undue emphasis on Catholic practice and often not gauged and reex­ amined in relation to other beliefs, including those of anthropomorphic supernaturalism. One of the principal aims of this monograph is to remedy this situation by presenting the ideology of the cult of the dead as a self-contained domain and in its relation to the structure of local religion. Even if this threefold analytical approach, in terms of the ide­ ological, structural-ideal, and structural-actual orders, has not been formally operationalized, the fact that it has led to a formulation of the ideological domain of the cult of the dead is justification enough for having employed it. In conclusion, it is the foregoing conception of the ideological and structural-ideal domains that has been construed here as the ideology and belief system of the cult of the dead. The ideology of the cult of the dead has been informally derived in terms of a number of statements with both exclusive and inclusive components: exclusive insofar as they occupy the central position in the cult of the dead, inclusive insofar as they are part of the ideology of rural Tlaxcalan religion. The belief sys­ tem of the cult of the dead is composed of an array of beliefs that order and structure the practice of the cult, both by itself and as part of other ritual-ceremonial complexes. It is the object of this chapter to bring to­ gether these various ideological and belief statements into a more or­ dered account and to indicate how they are efficacious in the structural discharge of the cult of the dead. IDEOLOGICAL INJUNCTIONS AND COMMANDS

An account of an ideology can never be complete, not only because of the interlocking fluctuation of structure and ideology within any sys­ tem, but perhaps more significantly because it is not always possible to determine how the ideology of a system is related to the ideologies of 304

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other systems. In any event, the following account represents the array of ideological domains concerning the cult of the dead in rural Tlaxcala that have been isolated so far. These domains are not self-contained but rather are combinations of exclusive and inclusive elements with varying ranges of effectiveness. First, then, the ideology of the cult of the dead rests upon these eight fundamental premises, in order of relative inclusiveness from greater to lesser: (i) The rites, ceremonies, events, functions, and activities of the cult of the dead are supernaturally sanctioned, and contraventions of or undue deviations from established traditions and directives may bring down the wrath of both Catholic and non-Catholic supernaturals. Supernatural punishment can take a variety of forms, but the most common are illness, poor crops, and bad luck in business ventures. The symbolic and mythological underpinnings of the traditions are explicit in dozens of legends in which La Malintzi, the patron saint of the community, and El Cuatlapanga and several other pagan and Catholic supernaturals play the role of cosmic mediators or upholders of the moral and social orders. (2) The cult of the dead as a whole and its various manifestations, particularly the Todos Santos celebration, are sacred institutions without which rural Tlaxcalans would be socially discontented and religiously unhappy: their culture and society would become disorganized, and they would see many of their significant religious and social institutions decline and even come to an end. (3) The manifold aspects and manifestations of the cult of the dead perform specific functions in facilitating the structural embodiment and actual discharge of several aspects of the religious system, the worship and propitiation of supernatural personages, and associated behavior and activities. (The cult of the dead is in a practical sense a model of what religious and magical worship, propitiation, entreaty, and veneration of the supernatural should be, in terms both of rituals and of their social implications.) (4) The range, variation, and manifestations of the cult of the dead are reflections of the manifold functions and purposes of the wider system in which it is embedded: the sacred socioreligious core of rural Tlaxcalan culture and society. Every major component of the cult of the dead (Todos Santos and the other main ritual-ceremonial occasions, the propitiation of different kinds of dead souls, the private and the public veneration of individual and collective ancestors, and so on) has differential functional assignments and structural discharges, which are interlocked with similar assignments and discharges in the wider system. (From this viewpoint, the cult of the dead may be seen as 305

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a cog, albeit an important one, in the sacred sociocultural core of rural Tlaxcalan culture and society.) (5) The rites, ceremonies, functions, and activities of every major component of the cult of the dead, whether conducted in the household or in a public place, are all equally important to successful compliance with the moral order of the system. They are not only the language for and the means of communicating with dead souls, but they also rep­ resent a major method of promoting rapport with the supernatural powers. (6) The cult of the dead and its manifestations are above all a bridg­ ing mechanism and a social catalyst with two main functions: to facil­ itate interactions among individuals, the collectivity, and the supernat­ u r a l ; and to help smooth the interaction among individuals and groups in the secular context. (7) Like all other components of the sacred core of rural Tlaxcalan culture and society, the cult of the dead is ultimately a value in itself, because, regardless of its functions and roles in the local community, it gratifies the individual and in a variety of ways gives the individual a measure of security not supplied by secular, external institutions. (8) The cult of the dead, as a principal part of the cult of the saints, to the highest degree exemplifies the human-supernatural covenant, the quid pro quo that governs the relationship of individuals and the col­ lectivity to the supernatural forces watching over them. (This belief is in a sense the most encompassing and could have been placed first, for it represents the cornerstone of the socioreligious system. However, it has been placed here because it is also the most inclusive in that it ap­ plies in equal measure to all the component parts of the integrative core of community life.) These eight premises regulate the structural discharge of the cult of the dead. They are largely shared by all the subsystems of what has pre­ viously been called the "integrative core" of rural Tlaxcalan culture and society (Nutini a n d l s a a c i 9 7 4 : 3 7 i ; Nutini and White 1977:354). This core includes the sacred-oriented imagi mundi, the cult of the saints (of which the cult of the dead is an integral part), the mayordomia system, the ayuntamiento religioso, the barrio organization, cer­ tain elements of kinship and most of the compadrazgo system, and a Christo-pagan folk religion. It is this ideological core that has kept community life traditional and rural Tlaxcalan culture and society re­ markably resistant to secularization (though its power to do so has more recently greatly diminished, as discussed in chapter 12,). This body of unconscious premises—never elicited verbally, and not directly deducible from the observation of behavior—has efficacy over 306

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the undifferentiated integrative core of community culture and society. However, each of the component parts of the core entails derivative injunctions. That is, while the eight premises apply with slight modifications (to fit particular structural domains) to, say, the cult of the dead and the compadrazgo system, each of these structural domains develops a set of imperatives that regulate its own immediate environment. This derivation has been done for the compadrazgo system (Nutini 1984:89-92), and it will be done here for the cult of the dead. The derived ideology of the cult of the dead encompasses the following injunctions or imperatives, again in order of relative inclusiveness from greater to lesser: (I) The cult of the dead is a necessity for the general well-being of the community. Functionally, dead souls and the saints are the same, occupy similar positions in the pantheon, and perform similar intensifying and protective roles. But first and foremost, dead souls are the intermediaries between man and the supernaturals, most accessible to entreaty and effective in producing desired results. It is therefore of the utmost importance to keep dead souls happy by carrying out diligently the rites, ceremonies, prayers, arrangements, and displays that they require. (II) The souls of the dead have power in their own right, and they are instrumental in granting entreaties, intensifying requests, and protecting those individuals and groups who approach them properly and in the right frame of mind. The dead souls are effective in such matters as watching over the maturation of the crops, providing sufficient rainfall, protecting the crops from hail and other calamities, guarding the physical health of individuals and groups, preventing untimely death, protecting individuals against evil supernaturals (primarily the tlahuelpuchi), and assisting individuals in the transition to the afterlife. Above all, dead souls have a special affinity with the supernaturals that control the natural elements, and it is in this context that they must be regarded as the greatest benefactors of individuals and the collectivity. (III) The souls of the dead constitute both an undifferentiated and a differentiated whole. In the former context, they (like the saints) function primarily as intermediaries between living people and the higher supernaturals, and they are to be worshipped publicly and collectively. In the latter context, they function mainly as dispensers of favors and as objects of entreaty with powers of their own, and they are to be worshipped privately and individually (by the household and the extended family). Moreover, their differentiated roles are marked by a division of labor, in which different kinds of dead souls (infants, children, and adults) are the dispensers of particular kinds of favors.

3°7

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(IV) One's own dead ancestors (from one's nuclear, extended, and nonresidential extended families) are most likely to hear the supplica­ tions for which they are approached and to grant the favors asked. The remembered souls of dead ancestors therefore occupy a place of honor in the pantheon of dead souls, and they must be approached with spe­ cial devotion and with great care for their ritual, ceremonial, and dis­ play needs. (V) The celebration of Todos Santos, especially the arrangement and decoration of the household ofrenda and the graves in the cemetery, is by far the most important series of events in the annual cycle of the cult of the dead. The people must be at their creative and expressive best in order to honor, venerate, and entreat all the dead souls, privately and individually in the household and publicly and collectively in the cem­ etery. Households and extended families that do not exert themselves to the maximum of their economic possibilities, or that fail to pool their resources for the greatest show of decoration and display of which they are capable, risk displeasing their own dead ancestors in particular, and all the dead souls in general, thereby diminishing the responsiveness of those who have left earthly existence to those who remain behind. (VI) Although not as ritually and ceremonially salient as Todos San­ tos, the four other institutionalized occasions on which dead souls are honored (January 5, February z, June 26, and December 16) are just as important ideologically and pragmatically. They must therefore be ob­ served with no less excellence and punctiliousness. (VII) The cult of the dead involves several fairly well-delineated subdomains, but primarily its structure consists of two components: a pri­ vate one, centered on the household altar (but including also the deco­ ration of the graves in the cemetery) and discharged by the family group; and a public one, centered on the church and discharged through the mayordomia system. These two components entail differ­ ent ritual, ceremonial, and expressive activities, but they are both di­ rected at the worship and propitiation of dead souls. It is therefore re­ quired that the respectively prescribed rites and ceremonies be discharged traditionally and with equal care. (VIII) The celebration of Todos Santos in particular, and the observ­ ances of the cult of the dead in general, facilitate the conduct of inter­ personal relationships and the smooth interaction of individuals and groups. The Todos Santos cycle brings the entire community together; kinsmen, compadres, and friends, rallying around the souls of the dead, become, albeit fleetingly, a united group, bound by the ties they share with those who have departed. During the four other celebrations, the extended family or nonresidential extended family rallies around the 308

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household altar, and again the souls of departed ancestors unite the kinship group, fostering cooperation and support among its members. For these reasons, as much as for the pragmatic constraints of the human-supernatural covenant, individuals and the community must comply with their duties and obligations toward the souls of the dead. (IX) The ofrenda for Todos Santos and its individual offerings to the different kinds of dead souls are the principal means of honoring and communicating with departed souls and hence are the most effective ways of entreating them and predisposing them favorably to the supplications of individuals and groups. It is therefore of the utmost importance that households and nonresidential extended families be as generous as they can, and as creative and expressively inventive, in the arrangement of the ofrenda. (X) The decoration of the graves is a less weighty matter than the ofrenda in the household. It has the same aims as the ofrenda, but the activities in the cemetery are devoted primarily to the souls of all the dead and only secondarily for the souls of individual dead ancestors (that is, even though the graves that are decorated are those of individual ancestors, the activities in the cemetery have more of a public than a private character). Despite the pre-eminence of the household ofrenda, the decoration of the graves requires the same high standards of excellence. Finally, the eight premises that the cult of the dead shares with the other components of the integrative core of rural Tlaxcalan culture and society, and the ten derived imperatives pertaining solely to the cult of the dead, are translated into directives for behavior. The most directly expressive of them are the following: (a) Perform all required rites, ceremonies, functions, and activities, and discharge all social, religious, and economic obligations toward your dead ancestors and the souls of all the dead, in order to live in peace with yourself, the supernaturals, and the community at large. (b) Comply with all prescriptions in honoring, worshipping, and propitiating the souls of the dead, and entreat and supplicate them according to tradition, for failure to do so leads to unpleasant consequences. (c) Comply with as many options and preferences associated with the cult of the dead as you can, even if this means social sacrifices and individual hardships, for in the long run it will result in your well-being and that of the community. (d) Give to the dead generously, for you will receive in equal measure from them. Do not skimp or try to cut corners in discharging your ob309

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ligations, for you will be treated in the same way by the dead souls that you entreat. (e) Whenever an occasion requires honoring the souls of the dead, do it promptly and to the best of your ability; put your heart into it, for the dead will remember it when you entreat them. (f) Regale the different souls of the dead with the delicacies they like most when they were alive, honor them with fine foodstuffs and imag­ inative displays, and remember them with pride by using the best ma­ terials for decorations, for these are the most effective means to ensure that they will be receptive to your supplications. (g) Do not approach the souls of the dead lightly; pray to and treat them according to their due, and, above all, remember and honor them with joy and devotion on the occasions established for doing so, since in this fashion you will enhance their predisposition to hear and grant your supplications. (h) Discharge your duties and obligations concerning the cult of the dead properly and to the best of your ability, for this pleases not only the souls of the dead but all supernaturals as well, resulting in the gen­ eral well-being of all. (i) Discharge all your obligations toward the dead with joy, devo­ tion, and to the best of your abilities, for you will ultimately be judged on the basis of how well you have done so. (Again, this directive for behavior and action is the most inclusive and encompassing, for it is shared by all the component systems of the integrative core of rural Tlaxcalan culture and society.) Thus, the ideology of the cult of the dead has been expressed in three levels of analysis: eight beliefs that the cult of the dead shares with the sacred integrative core of local culture and society; ten derived imper­ atives pertaining solely to the cult of the dead; and nine directives for behavior. These three levels constitute an efficacious complex that reg­ ulates the discharge of the cult of the dead. It should be reiterated that this body of "native categorical imperatives" is not part of observable behavior or of the corpus of data obtained from informants. These na­ tive categorical imperatives are in a sense a model—or, to put it differ­ ently, the semantic components of a theory—of the cult of the dead in rural Tlaxcala. With appropriate manipulations, they should predict certain behaviors at lower levels of analysis, a position that has been developed elsewhere (see Nutini 1984:91-95). COMPONENTS OF THE BELIEF SYSTEM

The belief system is the lowest level of analysis of the ideological-struc­ tural ideal configuration. It is comprised of the directives for behavior 310

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standing closest to the observable or explicitly articulated facts of social experience. Although beliefs are not direct injunctions or imperatives, their semantic component does have the form of "thou shall" and "thou shall not" commands. In the present conceptual scheme, they have two main functions: they are immediately efficacious in molding behavior to the traditional patterns entailed by the commands; and the subdomains over which they have efficacy become identifiable, selfcontained spheres of action, which in turn reinforce traditional patterns of behavior and action. Beliefs are always conscious, and most of them are elicited verbally from informants, though occasionally they may be derived from particular bundles of behavior. In summary, a general statement of the belief complex of a properly bounded system or subsystem constitutes the immediately ideal (what ought to be) spring to action, which makes this concept, when properly operationalized, a theoretical entity. It would be next to impossible to give a complete account of the beliefs of even a well-bounded system. The following account of the beliefs of the cult of the dead is as complete as is possible at present, given the standard data-gathering methods employed by most anthropologists. While ideological injunctions and imperatives can be roughly ranked by degree of inclusiveness and of encompassing efficacy, beliefs cannot. They can, however, be partly ordered in terms of contexts and bundles of parts, and such an order is reflected in the list presented below. Furthermore, they can be scaled in terms of the strength and intensity of the implied command—that is, in terms of the efficacy of compliance with what the belief stipulates. (In this they are again unlike ideological injunctions and imperatives, which are ultimately absolute commands, whose efficacy cannot be directly measured.) Thus, the degree of compliance with each belief, as determined either by elicitation from informants or by direct observation of behavior, is indicated in parentheses following the statement of the belief: S (strong), for more than 75 percent compliance; M (medium), for 30 to 75 percent compliance; and W (weak), for less than 30 percent compliance. (1) All the souls of the dead return in spirit on Todos Santos to visit those who have not yet joined them, to rejoice with them if they are in heaven, or to entreat them for good works so that they may soon go to heaven if they are still in purgatory. The dead souls symbolically partake of the ofrenda feast, are renewed in their resolve to help and protect the living, and return happy to their eternal abode. (S) (2) The souls of the dead return on Todos Santos in some sort of corporeal form, mingle with the living as phantoms, and actually eat part of the offerings and physically enjoy the smell and touch of those items 311

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in the ofrenda that they had liked or that had been close to them when they were alive. (M) (3) The returning souls of the dead can hear, smell, and touch, but they cannot see people or things. Consequently, the ofrenda's form and smells are enjoyed by the dead souls, while the decorations and ar­ rangements are enjoyed by the living. (M) (4) The souls of the dead who have departed within the living mem­ ory of the oldest member of the kinship group hover and stay around the ancestral household during their annual return, while more remote dead souls wander about the community and converge on the cemetery for La Llorada. (S) (5) The souls of infants and children begin to arrive for Todos Santos at 3 P.M. on October 31, those of adults at 3 P.M. on November 1. All the souls of the dead depart on the evening of November z, and at the stroke of midnight they are all gone. (S) (6) The way to the household altar and ofrenda is always indicated, from the street or path to the main room of the house, by strewn zempoalxochitl petals and the petals of roses or other sweet-smelling flow­ ers, and the teponaxtle music in the cemetery attracts the dead souls for La Llorada. (S) (7) The souls of the dead return from the north, for it is in that direc­ tion, far away, that the mansion of the departed is located. (W) (In­ formants have not provided any fuller a statement of this belief, but, as described below, there are a number of vestigial beliefs that point to a rather elaborate non-Christian conception of the afterlife.) (8) Normally the souls of the dead do not return to this world, other than for Todos Santos. But on special occasions or for extraordinary reasons (for June 26, when a person is seriously ill, or upon some eco­ nomic disaster or during a serious drought), they do come back, when properly entreated, in order to be near their kinsmen, compadres, and friends and to protect them and lend their powerful support. (S) (9) The souls of the dead do occasionally come back at indeterminate times in order to molest, frighten, or take vengeance on individuals who were unkind or who mistreated them when they were alive. They appear in the form of phantoms, nebulous apparitions, and repellent animals, and they play tricks and sometimes cause serious damage. (SM) (10) The souls of recently deceased kinsmen come back when a per­ son is about to die, both to console those who are staying and to afford guidance to the individual who is about to enter the afterlife. (S) (11) For four years after death, departed souls wander about before 312

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reaching their final destination. (M) (There is a more elaborate vestigial belief concerning these four years and what transpires therein.) (12.) In recognition of this wandering, a cross is erected on a grave for four years after death. Thereafter, the individual is considered properly dead and his memory begins to recede from those who were close to him while he was alive. (S-M) (13) The ofrenda de primer muerto contains supplies for the soul of a person who has died within the year, to tide him over during the first year of wandering. It is left next to the main ofrenda for the returning soul to partake of it symbolically and gain strength for the road ahead. (M) (14) When infants die, their souls go to limbo, a beautiful place where there is plenty of everything and where infants are cared for by angels. (M) (There is a more elaborate non-Christian version of this belief still held by members of a few communities.) (15) When children die, their souls go to heaven, where they occupy a place of honor next to God, the Virgin Mary, and the most venerated saints. (S) (16) When adults die, they go either to heaven or to purgatory. Those who have complied with their personal, kinship, compadrazgo, religious, social, ritual, and ceremonial obligations go to heaven; those who have been remiss or shirked their duties go to purgatory. It is impossible to know for certain who goes to heaven and who goes to purgatory, nor is it possible to know how long individuals who go to purgatory have to stay there before reaching heaven. (S) (17) Hell is the worst part of purgatory, where the souls of the most antisocial and despicable individuals spend more time and suffer more pain before reaching heaven. (S) (As indicated previously, rural Tlaxcalans cannot conceive of a God cruel enough to punish anybody for eternity.) (18) Nobody knows precisely what heaven and purgatory are like, except that the former is a place of glory, beauty, and pleasure, while the latter is a place of pain and regret; and there is no need to know more. (S) (Indeed, rural Tlaxcalans do not think or talk much about heaven and purgatory, so these aspects of their religion are somewhat underdeveloped and do not play a crucial role.) (19) The souls of the dead eventually become like the souls of the saints. In the celestial court, their good works when they were alive are judged, and, according to this judgment, dead souls are differentially ranked. But since it is impossible to know what the ranking is, all the dead souls in heaven are equally worshipped and propitiated. (S) (20) Because of their suffering, the souls of the dead in purgatory are 313

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held in great esteem and veneration. They are regarded as the most ready to help the living, and a large part of the worship and propitia­ tion of dead souls is concerned with those who are in purgatory. Con­ versely, the souls in purgatory require more prayers, rites, and cere­ monies than other dead souls, and it is precisely this extra attention that makes the souls in purgatory such effective objects of propitiation. (S) (2i)The souls known as las animas de la buena muerte are those of people who were especially virtuous when they were alive; such souls are always by the bedside of individuals who are about to die, in spirit and perhaps in some ethereal physical form, wrestling with evil super­ naturals who are trying to snatch the soul for malevolent purposes as it leaves the body. (S) (22) The term benditas (blessed), with which the souls of the dead are referred to and addressed, is equivalent to santos or santas (saints), since the saints and the blessed souls constitute a single family in the celestial court. (23) Like the saints, the dead souls either can act as intermediaries between living people and the higher supernaturals or can exercise powers of their own to grant petitions and requests. (S) (The folk the­ ology does not specify when dead souls act as intermediaries and when as independent agents. The orthodox theological concept that all power emanates from God is vaguely acknowledged, but it does not have structural and pragmatic effect. Rather, the majority of rural Tlaxcalans conceive of the Catholic supernaturals as being graded in power: God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit are at the top; the Virgin Mary ranks below them; and the saints and dead souls are at the base. The patron saint of the community has a somewhat am­ bivalent position, but when it is a saint—rather than one of the forms of Jesus Christ or the Virgin Mary—it stands in first position. Parallel­ ing the Catholic hierarchy, and also in an ambivalent position, are the pagan supernaturals: La Malintzi, El Cuatlapanga, and two or three other rather nebulous supernaturals. When traditional rural Tlaxca­ lans use the expression "higher supernaturals"—"the powers that gov­ ern us" [los poderes que nos gobiernan] and "those who are on high" [los que estan muy alto] are two common formulations—they mean roughly God, the Virgin Mary, and La Malintzi.) (24) The souls of the dead are always willing to hear those who ask for help of any kind, because, having once been mortal, they know the hardships and dangers of this world. But they must be approached in a frame of mind and in a manner—i.e., with the proper quantity and combination of offerings, prayers, rosaries, masses, candles, flowers,

3M

IDEOLOGY OF THE CULT OF THE DEAD

and rituals—appropriate to the nature of the supplication, the circumstances of the occasion, and the persons being affected. (25) Again like the saints, the dead souls have different powers and predispositions and are the patrons of different domains and activities. These differences arise both from their age at death (whether as infants, children, or adults) and from their destination after death (heaven, purgatory or heaven, and rank in heaven). Different kinds of dead souls require different approaches and modes of worship and supplication in order for results to be forthcoming. (S) (26) The souls of the saints embody the heart of the Todos Santos celebration, for they combine what is best and most sacred of the saints and of the dead souls. (S) (27) Those who die due to accidents on the highway must be buried with the benefit of ritual sponsors, whose duty it is to set up a cross at the spot where the accident took place. This is done in order to counteract the bad luck of the event and to make future travel away from the community safe. (S) (28) Deaths that result from the natural elements are punishments meted out by La Malintzi or El Cuatlapanga to individuals and families for neglecting their social, ritual, and ceremonial obligations. For the sake of atonement and protection, the spot where the accident took place must be cleansed by a tezitlazc. This rite also counteracts any otherwise adverse consequence for the destination of the dead person's soul. (S) (29) Death is something over which one has no control; it comes when the higher supernaturals so decide. Death caused by the action of a human being is thus a contravention of the natural order, which must be restored to equilibrium by performing ritual cleansings and atonement ceremonies on both the killer and the victim in the environment in which the killing took place. These activities return all concerned to a normal state of affairs, and it is then possible for the kinsmen involved to reach an agreement concerning the killing; the killer can in time be reinstated to full social standing; and the destination of the soul of the victim will not be adversely affected. (S) (30) When an individual commits suicide, the balance of the natural order must be restored immediately, for this is a dangerous action that affects the community as a whole: it diminishes the community's pool of good will with the supernaturals, who might temporarily withdraw their protection. After extensive cleansing rites and ceremonies of atonement, the body and soul of the suicide are quickly forgotten. The ultimate disposition of the suicide's soul is indeterminate; it can go either to heaven or to purgatory. (M) 315

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(31) The souls of infants who die of natural causes occupy the highest rank in the pantheon of the dead. (S) (32) The souls of infants who die as the result of being sucked by the tlahuelpuchi suffer the same fate as those of individuals who commit suicide. (S) (However, the souls of all infants have a place of honor in the pantheon of the dead.) (33) The souls of dead infants and children must be especially wor­ shipped on February 2 and June 26, for this is crucial to making seeds grow and animals reproduce, on the one hand, and warding off the tla­ huelpuchi, on the other. (S-M) (34) Decorating the graves of infants and children with white flowers during the month of August averts the torrential rains and hailstorms that could damage the maturing crops at this time of the year. (W) (35) The worship of the souls of dead adults ranks below that of the souls of dead infants and children, although this distinction has little practical significance. (M) (36) The souls of dead adults must be especially worshipped on Jan­ uary 5 and December 16. Their worship on the former date is insurance for good crops and good health; their worship on the latter date is in­ surance for the protection of life and property. More than on any other occasions, these two celebrations must be observed both by the family at home and by the mayordomias in church. (S) (37) During La Llorada, many of the dead souls of the community congregate in the atrium or cemetery. Attracted by the teponaxtle, they come there to share a few hours with those whom they left behind. On this occasion more than on any other, the souls of the dead become one with the people of the community. (S-M) (In a few of the most tradi­ tional communities, informants say that in some fashion the souls of the dead assume a certain physical form in order to be with the living on more intimate terms.) (38) Between La Llorada and La Despedida the returning souls of the dead are in the most intimate contact with the living. During this twenty-four-hour period, people must remember their departed kins­ men, compadres, and friends most intensely, if their supplications and entreaties are to be heard during the coming year. (S) (39) The celebration of Todos Santos, especially from October 28 to November 3, is one of the most important events in the community. The presence of the souls of the dead brings people together, people try to forget old enmities, compadres and friends intensify their ties, kins­ men return and are reinvigorated, and the community experiences peace, tranquility, and good behavior as during no other time of the year. (S-M) 316

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(40) The ofrenda in the household for Todos Santos is by far the most important undertaking in honor of the dead souls. The ofrenda is regarded by the souls of the dead as the highest tribute of the living, and it is in touching it, smelling it, and tasting it that they rejoice the most in their annual return to this world. Households must therefore do their utmost to set up as magnificent, elegant, abundant, and delectable an ofrenda as they possibly can, both as an intrinsic honor and homage to the souls of the dead and as insurance for succcessful supplications to them. (S) (41) The household altar is the depository of all that is sacred in the cult of the dead and the cult of the saints, just as the church is the depository of the sacred images, implements, and objects that the mayordomias honor and care for throughout the year. The household altar is an integral part of the ofrenda and a focal point of reference for the returning souls during Todos Santos and on other occasions. (M) (42) The traditional ofrenda in the ancestral household is the heart of the Todos Santos celebration, with respect both to the participating and contributing personnel and to the offerings to the returning souls. Nothing requires more attention and loving care than its decoration, arrangement, and display. (S) (43) Every offering to the returning dead, every pattern of arrangement and display, and the setting of the ofrenda as a whole all have meaning: they please the various kinds of dead souls, they are greatly appreciated by the dead souls as a whole, and they generate the highest degree of rapport between the living and the dead. No effort should be spared to buy or make the best offerings, demonstrate ingenuity in the decoration of the ensemble, and show imagination and exactness in displaying the items. The effort will be amply compensated by the good will of the dead souls and their willingness to listen to the supplications oi their kinsmen and of the kinship group as a whole. (S-M) (44) Individual offerings to the different kinds of dead souls not only have meaning but are especially efficacious for the granting of specific favors. The ofrenda as a whole has the same property vis-a-vis all the dead souls, which also pleases those supernatural who are close to them (the Virgen del Carmen and the Virgen de la Luz). (S-M) (Informants usually stop short of making overt connections between the cult of the dead and particular supernatural.) (45) The decoration of the graves for Todos Santos ranks second in importance to the household ofrenda in the activities of the cult of the dead. The decoration must be done with loving care and must show imagination and creativity in the execution of patterns and designs, for 317

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this pleases the dead souls and constitutes the second most powerful means of predisposing them favorably to human supplications. (S) (46) The patterns of display and design on the graves have meaning, but they also make a public display that shows to all how the commu­ nity pays homage to the departed that arouses the admiration of visi­ tors and the pride of the community. (M) (47) The display of imaginative designs, the use of traditional flow­ ers, the excellence of execution in the decoration of the graves, and the arrangement of the cemetery as a whole, add prestige to the commu­ nity, and, more important, improve rapport with the dead souls. (S-M) (48) The mayordomias of the cult of the dead are important mecha­ nisms for generating good will and rapport with the departed souls. It is incumbent upon every member of the community to support them, for their activities contribute to the well-being of all. (S-M) (49) The household ofrenda is the model for personal ofrendas. The former facilitates good relationships between the living and the dead, and the latter the same among living individuals. Personal ofrendas are a lubricant to keep the mechanisms of human relationships working properly; without them, all kinds of affairs would be more difficult to accomplish and resolve. (S) (50) The dead souls, especially those of infants and children, are ef­ fective intermediaries between the community and La Malintzi and El Cuatlapanga, the two most important masters of the natural elements. Flowers, candles, and prayers offered to the souls of infants and chil­ dren for intercession before La Malintzi and El Cuatlapanga are the most effective measures against hailstorms and torrential rains, and in general for controlling the natural elements. (M-W) (51) La Malintzi is particularly fond of children; she holds them in special esteem and often favors them with boons. When children die, their souls sometimes make a detour to spend time in the mansion of La Malintzi deep in the mountain, before going on to heaven. (M-W) (There are many legends in which children are portrayed in interaction with La Malintzi. Her abode is described in these legends as a para­ dise—a place beautifully laid out, with wonderful streams, verdant pastures, and delicious fruits growing on the trees. Indeed, the descrip­ tion is quite similar to that of the pre-Hispanic Tlalocan and Tonacacuauhtitlan combined into one.) (52) El Cuatlapanga favors strong and courageous men, and he is es­ pecially predisposed to hear their supplications and grant them boons. When these men die, their souls most assuredly go to heaven, but first their souls are feted by El Cuatlapanga in a cave in the depths of his hill. (W) (There are also several legends in which El Cuatlapanga, who is 318

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conceived as being capricious, plays benefactor to singularly endowed individuals. It is worth noting that there are symbolic, expressive, and historical connections that tie together the tutelary mountain owners, the propitiation and supplication of dead souls, control of the elements, and concern for the fertility of animals and the maturation of crops. There is an obviously pre-Hispanic thread here, but it has not yet been possible to disentangle and account for all the elements involved.) (53) The souls of dead tezitlazcs, like those of brave and strong men, are feted by El Cuatlapanga in his mansion at the start of the journey to their final destination, but they may then go to either heaven or purgatory, like the souls of ordinary men. (W) (54) The souls of dead tetlachihuics go to heaven if their white magic overshadowed their black magic, but they go to purgatory if the opposite is the case. The souls of especially vicious tetlachihuics go to the most dreadful part of purgatory and stay there longer than other souls. (M) (55) The souls of dead nahuales always go to purgatory, because of the heavy-handed tricks they played on humans and the destruction of property they caused. (M) (56) The souls of dead tlahuelpuchis are destroyed or cease to exist, whether they have been killed by the people or have died of old age, so that they cannot possibly pass on their loathsome powers to anyone. (S) (Beliefs 54 to 56 show the resistance of rural Tlaxcalans to the concept of hell, even in the case of what they regard as the most abhorrent creature on earth, the tlahuelpuchi.) (57) Supernatural beings such as Matlalcihua, La Llorona, El Charro Negro, La Serpiente Emplumada, and a few other apparitions or phantomlike supernaturals have no souls, although they may sometimes appear in human form. (W) (The fundamental nature of these beings is unclear. It is clear, however, that rural Tlaxcalans believe that the higher supernaturals have no souls, for they are immutable beings, the creators and conservators of everything else in the universe; it is only humans and anthropomorphic supernaturals, the creations of the higher supernaturals, that have souls. (58) The Virgin of Carmel, the Virgin of Light, and the saints Michael the Archangel, Lawrence, Isidore, Anthony, and Joseph are especially fond of children. When the souls of dead children arrive in heaven, they come under the protection and sponsorship of these supernaturals. (S) (Note that, with the exception of Saint Anthony and Saint Joseph, these supernaturals are associated with water and fertility, revealing once again the putative relationship of the souls of dead 319

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children, these saints, and implicitly their pagan counterparts, in the context of water, fertility, and the maturation of the crops.) This set of statements, then, constitutes the more or less operative be­ lief system of the cult of the dead. They are the expressions of the peo­ ple themselves, which have only been slightly abstracted here. Al­ though they have different degrees of intensity, they do form a global system of action. It should be emphasized that several of them are fairly complex entities, which could be decomposed into a number of subsid­ iary beliefs having lower efficacy. For example, belief 44 could be bro­ ken down into the beliefs that pre-Hispanic figurines and shards have magical powers by virtue of having been made by the ancestors; that ocoxochitl and zoapatl protect the ofrenda against evil spirits; and so on. The same could be done for the other beliefs concerning the ofrenda, as well as those concerning the decoration of the graves. This point will be further discussed below. In addition to these beliefs, there are others that are either of very low incidence and strength or that are only vestigially present. Although their efficacy is severly limited, they are important for several reasons. They are effective in reconstructing the cult of the dead in the shortrange historical perspective (i.e., about one hundred years ago); they give us insights into the varying articulation of a particular belief and its structural sphere of action; and they tell us something about a struc­ tural domain when its underlying belief is no longer verbalized. More­ over, these vestigial beliefs are almost entirely pagan, and more than any other aspect of the cult of the dead they demonstrate its pre-His­ panic underpinnings and the connections between the souls of the dead and the fertility attributes with which tutelary mountain owners are en­ dowed. Each of them has been classified here as low in incidence (L), meaning that, although they are still present in several communities, they are on the way to disappearing; or as vestigial (V), meaning that they are present in not more than three communities and perhaps have been heard vaguely verbalized a few times in other communities. (i) When children and infants die and their souls go to reside in the mansion of La Malintzi, they there, in some corporeal form, serve La Malintzi as pages, attendants, and especially as messengers or go-be­ tweens in her contacts with living persons—for example, when she wants to communicate with someone in order to grant a certain boon. (V) (Traditionally, La Malintzi is regarded as a supernatural from whom many good things emanate, though she sometimes employs as messengers her attendant lions or dogs rather than the corporeal souls of infants and children.) (ii) The dead souls of tezitlazcs and of normal individuals who have 320

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repeatedly honored El Cuatlapanga, ritually and ceremonially, are feasted by this supernatural in his mansion immediately after death, and El Cuatlapanga then shows them the road and accompanies them for a while on the long pilgrimage that they must undertake before reaching their final destination. (V) (iii) When a person dies, one of the dogs or lions of La Malintzi meets the dead soul near the headwaters of the Zahuapan River. The dog shows the dead soul the road to follow, accompanies it for a while, and cautions it against the dangers that will be encountered before reaching the final destination. (L) (The Zahuapan is a small river crossing the Tlaxcalan heartland; its headwaters are located some forty miles to the north.) (iv) When adults die, they must be buried with some food and money for the initial stages of the long pilgrimage that dead souls must undergo before reaching their final destination. (L) (This belief is interesting for two reasons. First, it is one of the few beliefs that is not embodied in action. When informants were pointedly asked if infants, children, and adults were buried with some food and money, they invariably answered "no, except perhaps in such-and-such a community high up on the mountain [alia en el cerro]." These beliefs may be called "redundant," and their conceptual implications are discussed below. Second, verbalizations of this and related beliefs often conveyed the impression that the souls of the dead somehow retained a corporeal, physical essense, which explained the need for food and money.) (v) The dead souls of especially evil individuals cannot go to heaven or purgatory and are destined to roam the world forever, frightening people and engaging in the same kind of antisocial activities that they practiced while they were alive. (L) (These are individuals who made compacts with the devil, parricides, desecrators of sacred images, and perpetrators of other abhorrent crimes. It should be pointed out that these evil dead souls have nothing to do with La Llorona or Matlalcihua, supernaturals endowed with their own immanent properties and powers.) (vi) The dogs of La Malintzi are incarnations of the souls of dead children, whom La Malintzi has chosen because they were virtuous while they were alive. They wait upon La Malintzi and serve her as messengers and go-betweens. (V) (vii) Invoking the souls of dead infants is good protection against infants' being sucked by the tlahuelpuchi. If properly propitiated with prayers and flowers, the souls of dead infants roam the community to keep away the bloodsucking witch. (L) (viii) El Cuatlapanga is unpredictable and capricious, but as the mas321

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ter of hail, he must be properly honored on August 10 and throughout the remainder of that month. Not only by preventing hailstorms, but also by sending enough rain, El Cuatlapanga helps the crops mature and yield abundantly. (V) (The structural discharge of this belief is the contemporary survival of the Xocotl Huetzi ceremony, in which El Cuatlapanga is honored and remembered with flowers and other offer­ ings in the cave of the hill bearing his name. The ceremony is now known as the feast of Lorenzo Cuatlapanga.) (ix) San Lorenzo and El Cuatlapanga are at times the same personage and at other times separate personages. In one way or another, they must be honored jointly, for the always benevolent personality of San Lorenzo tempers the capriciousness of El Cuatlapanga. (L) (This belief exemplifies the contemporary ambivalence of rural Tlaxcalans' con­ ceptions concerning pagan and Catholic elements: while the usual practice is to keep these elements separate, they are sometimes inter­ twined.) (x) The dead souls in purgatory are special attendants and acolytes of the guardians of water and the mountain (that is, La Malintzi and El Cuatlapanga); they must be honored and remembered during the vigils of May 8 and 15 and throughout that entire week. Without the help of the guardians and the intercession of the souls in purgatory, the crops would produce meager yields. (V) (The structural discharge of this be­ lief is the set of activities during the week of May 8-15 centered on the spring of Cuahuixmatla, still bearing much pre-Hispanic content and meaning.) (xi) The dead souls in heaven and purgatory are favorites of and very close to the owners of the mountains, especially La Malintzi and El Cuatlapanga. Thus, these personages, dispensers of water, abundant crops, and other good things, are always susceptible to intercession through the good offices of the dead souls. (L) (This belief, although no longer frequently verbalized, is still very much in the societal subcon­ scious. It also exemplifies once more the relationship between the cult of the dead and the tutelary mountain owners.) (xii) After death, the souls of the dead arrive at a river, which is crossed with the help of a dog, to whom they have to pay a fee. The dog then shows them the road to follow, which is hard and dangerous: full of narrow passes, littered with stones, and traversing high mountains and deep ravines. The souls of the dead do not return to the world of the living until they have reached their final destination, which takes them four years. (V) (Again, that final destination is not clearly con­ ceived or specified. Descriptions of it seem to combine the lightness and 322

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beauty of the Christian heaven and the fire and suffering of the Catholic purgatory.) (xiii) Whirlwinds are the physical manifestations of the souls of the dead that are angry because they have not been honored and remembered properly. When whirlwinds appear, people must pray to the dead souls and put flowers on their behalf on the household altar. If the whirlwinds continue, the local tezitlazc must placate the dead souls by commending the community to La Malintzi and El Cuatlapanga. (L) (xiv) The persistent and lugubrious barking of dogs at night signifies that dead souls are passing by or have come back to molest or frighten specific individuals. Dogs must be treated well and cared for, for otherwise the dog by the river will not be kind to dead souls. (V) (xv) The souls of women who die in childbirth and those of people killed by lightning go to reside at the headwaters of the river that other dead souls must cross on the way to their final destination. The dead souls of these people are of bad omen and vengeful; people must be especially careful to honor them from time to time, lest these souls molest them. (V) (xvi) The souls of dead infants go directly to chichihuacuaco, a place where the trees have breasts and infants are fed from them and lead an existence akin to that of the angels in heaven. (V) (This belief was expressed only three times, by different informants in probably the most conservative community in rural Tlaxcala. One of them elaborated the belief by saying that on the day of the final judgment, the souls of dead infants will be transformed into angels and occupy a place of honor in the celestial court. This version neatly blends a pre-Hispanic with a Christian belief into a syncretic entity.) (xvii) La Malintzi and El Cuatlapanga are solicitous of the souls of the dead, particularly of those of infants and children, because as subordinate supernaturals of God, they will also have to account for their actions on the day of final judgment. (L) (It is implied that these tutelary mountain owners will use the souls of dead infants and children as intercessors on their behalf—another interesting syncretic construction.) The entire array of seventy-five beliefs pertaining to the cult of the dead—fifty-eight of them fully functional and seventeen of low incidence and limited efficacy1—constitute an ensemble that must be analyzed as a whole, for it reflects the global ideology of the cult of the dead, on the one hand, and its enforced structural compliance, on the other. It is this position of the belief system, standing between ideology and structural discharge, that is the key element in operationalizing the conceptual scheme being developed here. The cult of the dead in rural Tlaxcala is in many ways an ideal institution for testing this scheme, 323

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and in the following section a number of ideas will be presented to move this endeavor forward. TOWARD THE OPERATIONALIZATION OF THE COMPONENTS OF THE CONCEPTUAL SCHEME AND STRUCTURAL DISCHARGE OF THE CULT OF THE DEAD

Most anthropologists have grappled with the problem of the relation­ ship between ideology and beliefs, on the one hand, and social facts and behavior, on the other. Many monographs contain discussions of how ideology, or a certain ideational order, structures behavior and how be­ lief systems are supposed to influence what people actually do under certain more or less specified conditions. It is generally assumed that the what-ought-to-be elements of culture affect the discharge of partic­ ular bundles of behavior, within certain empirical constraints. There is no question, then, that concepts such as ideology, belief, and values are intended to play a theoretical role. In practice, however, these concepts are left vague and no attempt is made to operationalize them, even at the lowest level, thereby rendering them useless for explanatory pur­ poses. Thus, in the great majority of cases, the ideology or belief system under consideration is left as little more than a catalogue of ideals, and even that may not be adequately or systematically presented. The aim of this section is to go beyond this state of affairs by taking preliminary steps leading to formal operationalization. The relationships of ideol­ ogy, the belief system, and actual structural discharge will be discussed, as well as some of the ontological properties of the first two levels of analysis and their differential provenance. The Efficacy of Ideology The ideology of a system or subsystem is both a statement of what people should do in general terms and a series of specific injunctions, imperatives, and commands. In the case of the cult of the dead, the ide­ ology governs a broad sphere of action composed of subdomains con­ sisting of specific bundles of behavior, subdomains that were set forth in the preceding section. Thus, the ideology of the cult of the dead is first and foremost a construct that delimits and renders socioreligiously meaningful a circumscribed body of behavior, activities, and ideas. But this construct also applies to other bodies of behavior, activities, and ideas that collectively have been referred to as the integrative core of rural Tlaxcalan culture and society, for no ideology is ever a self-con­ tained construct affecting only a single domain. Herein lies the most sa324

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lient ontological property of ideology: its sphere of action is both inclusive and exclusive. It was on the basis of this essential property that the ideology of the cult of the dead was organized into three sets of injunctions scaled from the most inclusive to the most exclusive: the rules the cult of the dead shares with the other domains of the integrative core, the rules pertaining only to the cult of the dead, and the rules constituting the belief system. Given the complexity of a sociocultural system, this seems to be the most appropriate way to proceed in transforming the concept of ideology into a theoretically useful term. To regard ideology, or any ideological construct, either as having exclusive efficacy on a single structural domain or as having only inclusive efficacy on several structural domains would be analytically inadequate and would greatly diminish the theoretical possibilities of the concept. The theoretical possibilities of ideology rest precisely on the ontological fact that it entails efficacy, coterminously or sequentially, over inclusive and exclusive structural domains. There appears to be two advantages of using the concept of ideology in this fashion. First, the inclusive aspects of ideology make it possible to compare the degrees of efficacy that it exerts on the several structural domains that are under its influence and are subject to its constraints. This in turn allows for the identification and measurement of the external variables that account for this differential efficacy. This is the most effective operation for determining the external variables, which are ultimately the dynamic mechanisms that explain adherence to or departure from the injunctions of the ideology. In the present case, the cult of the dead shares its ideology with such domains as the cult of the saints, the mayordomia system, and compadrazgo. All four of these socioreligious domains stand at the heart of rural Tlaxcalan culture and society; they are regulated by the same complex of injunctions (the eight fundamental premises stated above); they are interwoven with one another; and their primary functions share a broad common denominator. And yet even the cult of the saints, so substantively close to the cult of the dead, involves second-level injunctions that are somewhat different from those involved in the cult of the dead (numbers I-X above), and the difference is even greater when the ideology of the cult of the dead is compared with that of compadrazgo (see Nutini 1984:89-92) and the mayordomia system. Despite their common premises, each of the four socioreligious settings entails varying degrees of efficacy, which are translated into somewhat different specific imperatives and commands. It is in the overlap of inclusive, second-level imperatives that the anthropologist is able to locate those points that are critical for measuring 325

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the efficacy of ideology—in other words, the reasons why the actors are adhering to or departing from the specific imperatives. In sum, the com­ parative assessment of second-level imperatives, is the critical analyti­ cal operation that permits the determination of how and why the sys­ tem under consideration is in a state of equilibrium, is undergoing change, or is on the verge of a new ideological-structural integration. This assumes that social behavior can be explained only insofar as we can determine the state of a system at given points in time—that is, why and under what conditions rules are broken or not broken. Lacking truly operationalized psychological variables, this seems to be the best way of arriving at a modicum of social explanation. When we move on to the exclusive domain of efficacy of ideology, the problem is one not of comparison but rather of diversification and internal consistency. Here the analytical task shifts to determining the internal constraints that generate compliance with or departure from the imperatives and commands of the exclusive domain, that is, the do­ main not shared in any perceptible way by adjacent systems. The exclu­ sive injunctions and imperatives of the cult of the dead, translated into direct commands (such as those designated a-i above), obey primarily the constraints of the institution itself, but as it has developed histori­ cally within the larger matrix of adjacent institutions. Hence, there are two problems that must be tackled at this juncture. The first of these is to ascertain the diversity of beliefs that fall under the efficacy of the im­ mediate commands of the exclusive ideology of the institution. This op­ eration gives us the range of adjacent domains that the belief system straddles, thereby again giving us clues as to how the same commands are complied with or departed from in several different environments. For example, even a cursory survey of the fifty-eight functional beliefs of the cult of the dead clearly indicates that they unfold in several ad­ jacent structural domains: the celebrations of specific mayordomias, the cults of several saints, the Catholic supernaturals, and the tutelary mountain owners and anthropomorphic supernaturalism. In other words, the ideological discharge of the same or very similar commands in different structural environments is confirmation of the internal con­ straints and variables that are instrumental in enforcing compliance with and motivating departure from stated rules. The second problem is to determine the delimited structural domains over which exclusive ideological imperatives and commands are efficacious. This operation sheds light on all three levels of analysis of the ideological-structural scheme: on the substantive composition of the three levels and the ef­ ficacy of the first two. This is especially true in such a syncretic institu­ tion as the cult of the dead. This point requires further elaboration. 326

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During the past fifty years or so, anthropologists have adduced or tried to harness psychological variables in order to explain, albeit in limited domains, sociocultural facts. These attempts have been largely unsuccessful; neither psychological anthropologists nor, for that matter, social psychologists have been able to formulate even limited-range theories that could explain a body of sociocultural facts in terms of essentially psychological variables—or, asNagel (1961:536-537) puts it, collective theoretical terms on the basis of individual theoretical terms. Most anthropologists, to be sure, make psychological generalizations, but these are either entirely descriptive statements (that is, elements of last resort, when confronted with the impossibility of making an intelligible explanation on strictly sociological grounds) or theoretical statements couched in psychological variables that do not explain sociocultural facts—not, at least, in a way that a philosopher of science would call a psychological explanation (though perhaps they may tacitly be sociological explanations). The plain fact is that behavioral scientists have not yet discovered how to use psychological variables to explain sociological facts, nor, conversely, how sociological facts condition psychological behavior. Indeed, it may well be the case that Durkheim's insistence that the twains of psychology and sociology shall never meet has thrown the behavioral sciences off the track by discouraging a search for techniques of blending psychology and sociology into a single conceptual framework. 1 Until behavioral scientists develop a theoretical approach in which individual and collective terms constitute interrelated parts in falsifiable constructs, anthropologists must continue to seek explanations within an essentially processual matrix, occasionally reaching for psychological crutches to get them out of a tight conceptual spot. The exploitation of the threefold explanatory scheme developed above demands the operationalization of psychological variables, but this cannot yet be done. The most promising remaining possibility is to explore the diachronic perspective in the search for limited explanations, until such time as a truly psychological framework can be brought to bear upon the problem. The exclusive efficacy of ideology over a structural domain (or the equivalent, an exclusive structural domain under the efficacy of an ideology) is largely the result of a historical process that must be taken into account if one is to make meaningful generalizations at any given point in time. This endeavor constitutes a significant part of this monograph, but the primary concern here is to specify the substantive and positional properties of ideology so as to arrive at a meaningful way of operationalizing the conceptual scheme. From this viewpoint, the historical development of the ideology of the cult of the dead, in relation to 327

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its corresponding structural domain, throws light on the efficacious links that obtained between them. In other words, the process of devel­ opment of the ideology of the cult of the dead reveals a great deal about the diversification of the belief system and the way in which it in turn enforced structural discharge in widening domains. The diversification of beliefs, to turn the argument around, provides clues to the efficacy of the exclusive ideology of the construct. Thus, the upward and down­ ward efficacy of the ideology and belief system can be seen in dynamic interplay: the ideology circumscribes and configurates the belief sys­ tem, and the belief system indicates the efficacy of the ideology. Finally, the fact that the cult of the dead is a syncretic entity is another signifi­ cant variable, for it constitutes another entry into the developmental process, seen most clearly at the intermediary level of the belief system. There is no model in the anthropological literature for the concep­ tual handling of ideology in the theoretical role in which has been cast here. In this monograph and previous ones (Nutini and Bell 1980; Nutini 1984), some advances have been made in positioning ideology in a more precise analytical framework than has been usual in anthropolog­ ical studies. But much remains to be done in refining the concept to the point where it can be handled formally. The main ontological proper­ ties of ideology and its sphere of action have been defined here, and the distinction between the inclusive and exclusive spheres of action of ideol­ ogy is promising, though more work needs to be done to make it amenable to rigorous quantification. But the downward efficacy of ide­ ology, as manifested by the belief system, can already be used with a modicum of exactness, rather than allowing theoretical progress to be blocked by the seeming conceptual intractability of ideology, on the one hand, or leaving it as a vague if not empty concept, on the other.

Latent and Manifest Beliefs When we reach the level of the belief system we are on more solid conceptual ground, and the analytical problems are easier to handle. The main reasons for this are the intermediary position of the belief sys­ tem and the concreteness of individual beliefs. With respect to the for­ mer, single beliefs and the belief system as a holistic ensemble have both upward and downward efficacy. Downward efficacy is, of course, the compliance with the latent or manifest command in the structural do­ main implied by the sphere of action of a belief or beliefs. Unlike ideo­ logical commands, which can never be very specific, belief commands are not only precise but directed enough so that it becomes possible to measure compliance or departure in a meaningful fashion. Upward ef328

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ficacy, on the other hand, is the feedback effect that beliefs have on the injunctions and imperatives of the ideology. In a self-fulfilling fashion, the more stringently the beliefs are complied with, the more efficacious the ideology appears to the actors. In other words, the ten direct ideological imperatives and the fifty-eight beliefs of the cult of the dead are tied together by a relationship that reinforces compliance on both levels. With respect to the second reason, the concreteness of beliefs, along with the corollary fact that their spheres of action are more accurately ascertainable, makes this level of analysis more manageable than the absolute but not well-circumscribed commands of the ideology. Another way of expressing this is that the exclusive ideology of a system sets the ideal boundaries, while it is actualized by the structural discharge of specific beliefs. Thus, given the upward efficacy of beliefs, and their concrete sphere of action, it is at this level that analysis must be concentrated for any serious attempt at operationalization. The seventy-five beliefs pertaining to the cult of the dead have already been scaled from strongly functional to vestigial, but there is another dimension that, although unrecognized by the actors, is apparent to an observer. This is the apparent lack of structural discharge for several of the beliefs. There are some beliefs whose commands do not produce observable behavior, at least not immediately, and others that are "redundant"—that is, they have ceased to have efficacy but remain in the societal consciousness. Redundant beliefs do not present any problems; on the contrary, they are useful in reconstructing the ideologicalstructural integration of a system or domain, especially within a shortrange historical perspective. Belief iv, now of very low incidence, is a good example. At the turn of the century, this belief was strong and fully functional. It can still be verbalized, but people no longer bury their dead with food and money. The question as to why this has happened is an interesting one; though it is not of concern at the moment, it is obvious that the answer bears directly on the ideological-structural articulation. However, beliefs that have no apparent efficacy do present problems, and they are important for the operationalization of the conceptual scheme and the general validity of the hypothesized ideologicalstructural relationship. The data available do not permit a precise scaling of the efficacy of the seventy-five beliefs pertaining to the cult of the dead, but they do permit the beliefs to be divided into three levels of efficacy. Some beliefs are directly discharged in specific behaviors and actions and are consciously perceived by the people and directly observable. Other beliefs appear not to translate into directly observable behavior, and the people are largely unconscious of what they entail, though the ensemble 329

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can be indirectly observed. Thirdly, there are beliefs that are essentially void, although they may still be verbalized by significant numbers of people. The last type encompasses those that have been labeled "redun­ dant," so the discussion will focus on the other two types, which may be called "manifest" and "latent," respectively. The manifest beliefs of the cult of the dead are those that have been designated above as 1-6, 12,13,17-48, 50, 53, 58, ii, iii, v-xi, xiv, and xvii. The latent beliefs are 7-11,14-16,18,49, 5 1 ) 52> 54~57>'> u ) iv, xii, xiii, xv, andxvi. 3 Manifest beliefs are the more efficacious in that there is a high degree of compliance with or adherence to what the directives imply. More­ over, every manifest belief structures its sphere of action in an articulate fashion, and the consequent behaviors may be regarded as an inte­ grated ensemble. Not only are the ideal stipulations of a manifest belief discharged to an optimum degree (and this "optimum degree" must be operationalized in testing the scheme), but the very distinction between ideal and actual tends to disappear. In belief number zo, for example, the activities of the cult of the souls in purgatory are specified in detail (although, as in the case of most manifest beliefs, they have been encap­ sulated in two or three sentences here), and the structural discharge of all the individual and collective rites, ceremonies, functions, and activ­ ities are not only complied with to a high degree, but the entire subdomain or sphere of action of the cult of the souls in purgatory acquires the character of an integrated subsystem. Latent beliefs are less efficacious than manifest beliefs, and not all the required behaviors are clearly specified. Moreover, the sphere of action of each latent belief is neither as well defined nor as integrated as that of a manifest belief. Rather, the ideal-actual configuration is slightly blurred and may be fuzzy at the edges. In other words, directives are not exactly complied with, there are alternatives, and there is a certain disparity between ideal and actual behavior. Number 10 is a good ex­ ample of a latent belief. The belief is that the souls of recently dead kins­ men come back when a person is on his deathbed, but though it is not stated, the people also believe that other kinds of souls may be present as well during this dangerous period. Furthermore, there are some rites and ceremonies that are not required by the stated belief. One cannot say, therefore, that it has the integrated configuration of a manifest be­ lief, nor that the ideal-actual distinction has disappeared. But what does the distinction between manifest and latent beliefs mean synchronically, diachronically, and operationally in the context of the present discussion? Synchronically, or structurally, manifest and latent beliefs constitute a gradation of ideal-actual configurations with respect to degree of efficacy and integration of sphere of action: the

33°

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more manifest the belief, the more efficacious and integrated it is. From this viewpoint, the belief system of any well-delineated institution or domain is made up of beliefs with varying degrees of efficacy and integration, which must be quantitatively analyzed as a whole if the concepts of ideology and belief are to be endowed with theoretical properties. Diachronically, or historically, the differential structure and efficacy of manifest and latent beliefs are integral to the nature and explanation of change, of how a system or institution came to be structured as it is at a given point in time. Inherent in this view is the notion that what changes are the ideology and the belief system, but it is the structural discharges that are directly observed. Undue emphasis on the latter has led many anthropologists to disregard the former and to maintain implicitly that ideology and the belief system play a passive role in the process of change. This monograph shows (see below) how changes in the ideology and belief system of the cult of the dead have both affected and been affected by external variables and constraints in the rural Tlaxcalan context. This conceptual position makes it possible to explain the historical development of the cult of the dead and the syncretic structuring of its basic form. Apart from the historical importance of the differential nature of manifest and latent beliefs, the assessment of these two types of idealactual ensembles also sheds light on the basic configuration of the ideological domain. It does so by demonstrating the differential efficacy of the ideological domain, as discharged by the varying efficacy of manifest and latent beliefs, as they change over time. In other words, the changing efficacy and integration of the gradation of beliefs demonstrate the constraints operating on the ideological domain. Operationally, the scaling of manifest and latent beliefs is a sine qua non for the implementation of the threefold scheme. This requires a number of related steps, and it is discussed later as part of a summary statement of the entire discussion. There is another point that, although not directly related to the general configuration of ideology and the belief system, can illuminate the nature of these two levels of analysis. The reader may have noticed that there are several structural contexts (some of them fairly well delimited) in the description of the cult of the dead that do not have specific beliefs underlying them or governing a definite sphere of action. For example, although violent and accidental deaths require a number of rites, ceremonies, functions, and behaviors, no concrete beliefs were presented for these subdomains. How is that to be reconciled with the assumption that there are always discoverable rules underlying and 331

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shaping sociocultural facts? First, no sociocultural system or subsystem can ever be entirely self-contained. This is in the nature of sociocultural phenomena, so occasional anomalies of this sort are not a theoretical obstacle. On the one hand, the system or domain under consideration can always be scaled down, and on the other, the seeming anomaly may simply be part of another ideological-belief-structural configuration. Second, diachronocally it is very likely that there was no anomaly at some time in the past: that is, the structural sphere in question was once under the direct efficacy of a manifest belief. This was precisely the case with the ensemble of activities at the turn of the century concerning the death of those who died violently, when it was regulated by a specific, verbalized belief. Synchronically, however, the domain may still be un­ der the constraints of ideological injunctions, thereby adhering to the assumption that all structural discharges are subject to rules. Third, the anomaly may be regarded as vestigial, not in incidence, but in the sense that the beliefs are no longer verbalized but rather are implied by the position of the subdomains within the global belief system, although they were formerly fully functional. Finally, it should be noted that in the analysis of the various kinds of beliefs, in terms both of incidence and strength and of ideal-actual composition, the interplay of pre-Hispanic and Catholic elements and the syncretic composition of the cult of the dead are significant elements. Activating Mechanisms The discussion so far has remained within what Reichenbach (1951:6-7, 382) has called the "context of discovery," the stage in which hypotheses and general constructs are formulated with the aid of intuition. It moves now to the "context of verification," the stage in which empirical data are mobilized to test the soundness of the scheme. Verification in this view is not the correlation of a definition with ob­ servational facts, but rather the determination of whether a theoretical construct accounts for observed configurations of facts. The intention here is to show how the concepts of ideology and belief system can be subjected to certain analytical procedures, up to the point at which quantitative manipulations can be undertaken. Because of the critical role of the concept of "operationalization" in what follows, the term must first be dealt with in greater detail than has been possible so far. The term is used here in the sense in which Hempel (1965:141) employs it in his discussion of explanation in the social sci­ ences: the specification of terms and of their interrelationships and their endowment with quantitative value. Operationalization is thus 332

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the first step in the process of verification. There are, of course, degrees of operationalization, and it is one thing to operationalize a concept in physics and quite another to do so in anthropology. The principle, however, remains the same; the difference lies in the degree of measurement and quantitative control that one is able to achieve over the component parts of the concept. In the kind of relatively loose operationalization that is the most that can be expected when dealing with sociocultural phenomena, rigorous quantification is less important than the logic of the operation, that is, the demonstration that the parts of the construct or theoretical scheme are useful, given the possibility of an appropriate corpus of empirical facts. Even the rather detailed ethnographic data-base presented in this monograph is not adequate for so much as the preliminary operationalization of the belief system of the cult of the dead (which is the most structured and quantifiable part of the complex), but the prerequisites of this operation can be specified. At this stage, however, the emphasis must be on the concatenation of conceptual parts and the activation of the threefold scheme. The goal is the construction of a dynamic model in which the ideology and belief system of the cult of the dead are not static entities but play an efficacious role in explaining actual structural discharge. Briefly, the situation may be visualized as follows. Only when a domain below the level of a global sociocultural system (in the present example, below the level of the total religious system) has been structured and configurated, and its parts divided into spheres of action, can the domain be activated. In the case of the cult of the dead, three interconnected substantive parts have been distinguished: the ideology (what people should do absolutely), the belief system (what people should do given certain constraints and conditions), and the structural discharges (what people actually do, individually and collectively). Since what is to be understood and explained is the actual behavior of people, structural discharge plays a passive role in this triad; the ideology and the belief system are the activating entities. Of the two, the key entity in the process of operationalization is the belief system, both because it occupies a central position and because it can be quantified adequately. Ideology, on the other hand, cannot be operationalized in any exacting fashion, even though it broadly structures the domain of action and defines the kinds of behavior in the absence of which there would not be any bounded domain. The efficacy of ideology, in other words, cannot be measured, yet it is the driving force of the theoretical scheme: it fixes and positions the other parts of the construct, and it sets the boundaries of adherence and compliance. But there is one sense in which ideology can be operationalized, and 333

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that is in the specification and hierarchization of its component imper­ 4 atives. This is an extremely difficult and time-consuming task, but un­ til it has been accomplished, the other two levels of the scheme cannot be operationalized. Synchronically, leaving ideology out of any theo­ retical approach to sociocultural phenomena is constricting, if the aim is to generate predictive explanations. In the diachronic context of change, however, ideology is a fundamental element, for ultimately what changes are ideational structures, which are, to be sure, unfolded at the structural level. But the latter cannot be explained without the former, and this is often forgotten. The fulcrum of the explanatory analysis is the belief system. Beliefs are more often than not clearly specified by the system's actors. They define spheres of action described in specific behaviors and activities, which can be easily quantified in terms of both efficacy (that is, degree of compliance by the actors) and of incidence and strength (that is, fre­ quency and intensity of verbalization by the actors). The several com­ ponents into which each belief is structured can also be quantified in terms of specific behaviors. In other words, most of the component parts and relational properties of individual beliefs, and of the entire array of beliefs, can be subjected to direct or indirect quantification. Moreover, the belief system is usually a highly diversified ensemble, both internally (that is, in terms of the discrete component parts of each individual belief) and externally (that is, in terms of the total number of beliefs in the array). The interdigitation of these two levels of inte­ gration yields the whole range of behavior and action specified directly by the beliefs themselves and indirectly by the commands of the ideol­ ogy. This is, of course, the double efficacy of the global array of beliefs that has been illustrated earlier in several contexts. Finally, the global array of beliefs touches upon several adjacent systems or domains, and this fact serves as a mechanism of control for the quantification of the efficacy of ideological rules on the one hand and of compliance with individual beliefs on the other. All these identifiable components can be positioned and quantified within the threefold analytical framework so as to generate adequate explanations of why people behave the way they do, or, more precisely, why they adhere to or depart from the stated rules of the system. All of this may be summarized in the following fashion: The cult of the dead in rural Tlaxcala constitutes a system S, composed of three parts: a, the ideological domain; b, the belief system; and c, a circum­ scribed sphere of action. (In a formal analysis, a, b, and c would in turn be decomposed into levels of imperatives and subspheres of behavior and action, but the model is being presented here in a simplified form.)

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The system S (a, b, c) is in a state of efficacy G at a specified time T. G is specified in terms of numerical values given to imperatives at the ideology-belief and belief-structure interfaces. This constitutes the logical form of the system, but it is not yet an explanatory construct, for it does not say why the system S is in the state of efficacy G at time T. It simply says that this is the state of affairs—that is, that the actors in the system behave according to certain degrees of adherence to or departure from the stated rules of the system. The construct is, then, a static entity. In the absence of manageable and efficacious psychological variables, it is in the context of diachronic analysis—a comparison of the state of efficacy of system S at times T 1 and T 1 —that dynamic, activating mechanisms and variables are uncovered. It hardly needs to be said that, although S may possibly remain the same from T 1 to T 1 , it is almost always the case that G will have changed, however imperceptibly. Although the nature of the activating mechanisms has important implications for the formulation of a theory of change, the concern here is nevertheless primarily synchronic, for the context of actual efficacy is synchronic, that is, at a given point in time. In this part of the scheme, what must be identified and operationalized are the external variables and mechanisms whose presence is assumed to be constant (qualitatively but not quantitatively) at any two or more points in time. There are two kinds of such variables: those which are external to the global sociocultural system, and those which are external to the system or subsystem under consideration. In the case of the cult of the dead in rural Tlaxcala, the former variables include the degree of modernization and secularization, the extent of contact with the outside world, the influence of the national infrastructure of communication and transportation, the rate and character of demographic growth, and so on. The latter—external to the system under consideration, but internal with respect to the local community—include the degree of interlocking with the cult of the saints, the differential importance of the private and public components of the cult of the dead, the influence of the kinship and compadrazgo systems, the degree of overlapping of the ideologies of these adjacent systems with that of the cult of the dead, and so on. These variables activate the ideal-actual ensemble and lead to an explanation in terms of efficacy. All the elements involved in the identification and measurement of external variables are quantifiable and hence amenable to operationalization. The analysis presented in this section had the primary aim of demonstrating that the concepts of ideology and belief can be transformed into theoretical terms that can ultimately be formally operationalized. It is admittedly programmatic, but it has demonstrated how these two 335

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concepts can be used to transcend the basically static and nonexplanatory form in which they have hitherto been employed by anthropolo­ gists. T H E INTEGRATION OF PRE-HISPANIC AND CATHOLIC COMPONENTS

The importance of the cult of the dead in rural Tlaxcala rests on two factors. First, given the great importance of the cult and the deification of the dead in pre-Hispanic times, undoubtedly among the first mayordomias to coalesce as organic, integrated ritual-ceremonial spon­ sorships were those concerned with the propitiation of the various kinds of dead souls. This accounts for the initial pre-eminence of the mayordomias of the souls in heaven and purgatory within the context of the growing cult of the saints, and the proliferation of sponsorships associated with them. Even when, sometime before the beginning of the nineteenth century, the mayordomias of the different kinds of souls lost their pre-eminence, they continued to occupy a prominent position in the cult of the saints, and accordingly, the public cult of the dead re­ tained a high degree of importance. Second, as Catholicism became the dominant institution in the syncretic synthesis, and most of the beliefs and ritual activities of pre-Hispanic times were abandoned, the cult of the dead retreated, as it were, into the household. The spheres of action of the ideology and belief system of the cult of the dead became cen­ tered primarily in the household and in a folk-pagan complex involving tutelary mountain owners, anthropomorphic supernaturalism, and the economy and social structure of kinship and compadrazgo. The Souls of the Dead and the Saints The importance of the cult of the dead in the community lies prima­ rily in the position of the dead souls as intermediaries between those on earth and the higher supernaturals. This property, of course, the souls of the dead share with the saints, but with two important differences. One is that the souls of the dead can act as intercessors with both Cath­ olic and pagan supernaturals, while the saints have little to do with the latter. It should be pointed out, however, that some saints are closely associated with or even equated with pagan supernaturals (for exam­ ple, Saint Lawrence with El Cuatlapanga, and Saint Michael and Saint Isidore with the tutelary owners of the mountain), and in a roundabout fashion, these saints do function as intermediaries in the pagan context. The second difference is that the souls of the dead, especially those of 336

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infants and children, have fertility overtones which the saints as a whole do not have. Again, there are qualifications—three saints associated with La Malintzi and El Cuatlapanga are associated with fertility, water, and the agricultural cycle—but the functions of the saints are so varied that their fertility role is minor compared to that of dead souls. The differentiation among dead souls, both with respect to ultimate destination and the circumstances of death, is concerned overwhelmingly with these fertility functions, as well as with the protection of the living. From this viewpoint, the cult of the dead is the most effective, self-directed domain of the Catholic-folk-pagan religion of rural Tlaxcala. Its strength lies in that, being at the heart of the pragmatic concerns of the socioreligious system (good crops, protection against accidents and certain unavoidable evils, and assistance for proper dying), and buttressed by elaborate and physically expressive rites, it embodies the essence of supernatural worship, propitiation, and entreaty, and the elements of the human-supernatural covenant, more than does any other domain of the religion. On several previous occasions, reference has been made to the belief of rural Tlaxcalans that saints and dead souls have power of their own, independent of the Christian God and other higher supernaturals. Even more than the saints, the souls of the dead are thought of individually as minor deities, who can grant boons and mete out punishments and rewards at their own discretion; and collectively they are regarded as a powerful supernatural body that can affect and change the course of natural human events, just as the higher supernaturals can. Even the patron saint of the community, often considered the most powerful Catholic supernatural, outranking God, Jesus, and the Virgin Mary, cannot compare with the collective efficacy of the dead souls. Whether as intermediaries or as supernaturals in their own right, the souls of the dead are the most commonly worshipped and propitiated entities in the pantheon of supernaturals. Again, this is because of the place that the cult of the dead has in private, household worship, which occupies more of the people's time and effort than the public components of religion. In practice, rural Tlaxcalans do not appear to discriminate between the intermediary and independent roles of the dead souls, but if they do, the latter takes precedence over the former. There may be some doctrinal and theological confusion, from the viewpoint of an outsider or the local priest, but the people are not aware of it; and in any case, no confusion obtains in the cult itself, for the people know quite well when and how to worship and propitiate the dead souls. Thus, for historical and structural reasons, the cult of the dead consti337

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tutes the core of the religious life of rural Tlaxcala, the most important domain in the relationship between humans and the supernatural. It must not be overlooked that the cult of the dead and the cult of the saints in many respects have the same configuration and similar struc­ tural discharges. They share an ideology and a belief system with the other subsystems of the traditional integrative core of rural Tlaxcalan culture and society. Yet it is the cult of the dead that best epitomizes the pragmatic, practical, self-serving nature of rural Tlaxcalan religion. In addition to what has already been said, it has another important prop­ erty: more than any other domain of the traditional integrative core, it blurs the separation of pagan and Catholic in the discharge of rites and other activities. It is in the manifold aspects of the cult of the dead that pagan and Catholic rites and ceremonies can most often be observed side by side or sometimes combined into one. This characteristic of the cult of the dead, it may be reiterated, can be explained by the fact that it became centered in the household and developed as a private insti­ tution. The socioreligious institutions of rural Tlaxcalan culture and society are for the most part syncretic entities that developed out of the inter­ action of pre-Hispanic and Spanish Catholic religions, both of which had a great concern with the dead. It is true that some pre-Hispanic ele­ ments—for example, the Xocotl Huetzi ceremony and the rites at the spring of Cuahuixmatla—have survived until the present almost intact. The sorcerer (tetlachihuic) and the witch (tlahuelpuchi) are pre-His­ panic in structure and content, with a European veneer, and the nahual and the tezitlazc have no European counterparts at all. But most of the socioreligious institutions are either well-integrated syncretic syntheses or acculturated entities. What determines the particular mix and rela­ tive strength of pre-Hispanic survivals and Catholic elements is the na­ ture and origin of the ideology and the belief system. The following chapter will present a description and analysis of what is ideologically and structurally pre-Hispanic, Spanish Catholic, and convergent. Suf­ fice it to say here that the greater the efficacy of the pre-Hispanic ide­ ology and belief system, the higher the number of survivals and/or the more integrated the syncretic synthesis. This generalization is sup­ ported by comparisons of the cult of the dead, anthropomorphic supernaturalism, and the complex of tutelary mountain owners with, say, the cult of the saints, the mayordomia system, and compadrazgo: the former have many pre-Hispanic survivals or are well integrated syn­ cretic syntheses, while the latter have few pre-Hispanic survivals or are only moderately well integrated syncretic or acculturative syntheses. Still another reason why the cult of the dead is such a crucial insti338

IDEOLOGY OF THE CULT OF THE DEAD

tution for understanding the ideology and structural discharge of the religion of rural Tlaxcala is its close relationship to anthropomorphic supernaturalism and the complex of tutelary mountain owners. The tezitlazcs, and to some extent the tetlachihuics, play a significant role in bridging the distance between pagan and Catholic rites, not infrequently giving the appearance of structural unity. This happens most often within the context of the cult of the dead. The affinity of certain kinds of dead souls with tutelary mountain owners, and the fertility overtones of the former, together with their position as intermediaries in the supplications quest for rain and good crops, are yet other vantage points from which to observe the interaction between pagan and Catholic elements. In short, there is no better institution than the cult of the dead for examining the workings of the disparate ideological and structural elements of rural Tlaxcalan religion. Conceptions of the Afterlife The cult of the dead also has teleological elements that are important to an understanding of the institution and its relationship to the larger religious framework. These elements—the conceptions of death, the circumstances in which it takes place, the afterlife, and the ultimate destination of the dead—exhibit the syncretic composition of the institution and the dynamic synthesis of pre-Hispanic and Spanish Catholic elements. To the casual observer, the proliferation of different kinds of dead souls honored during Todos Santos (see chapters 4 and 5) may seem little more than folk elaborations of a basic Catholic pattern, perhaps widespread in southern Europe in the sixteenth century but today a marginal aspect of Catholicism which has survived in Mesoamerican Indian and folk communities. But this is not the case at all. The complex of different kinds of dead souls is of pre-Hispanic origin, several elements of it having survived more or less intact. Perhaps it is only symbolically true that those who die violently today can be equated with those who died in battle in pre-Hispanic times, but there is certainly a more definite connection between those who die today as a result of water-related causes and those who went to the realm of Tlaloc, the rain god, in pre-Hispanic times. The theological underpinnings of the pre-Hispanic deification of the dead are, of course, gone; the new religion is monolatrous, and the socioreligious conditions have changed radically. But ideologically, the old polytheistic conception of dead souls classified according to the circumstances of death has greatly altered the Christian conception of death, and it has made the 339

CHAPTER ίο

complex much more elaborate. There is little that is Christian about the division of labor in the cult of the dead or the rites associated with it during Todos Santos and other celebrations. The attributes and prop­ erties of those who die violently, as a result of accidents, from being sucked by the tlahuelpuchi, or as suicides, have no precedents in Ca­ tholicism. The syncretic synthesis of the cult of the dead is much more pre-Hispanic than Catholic in both structure and ideology. Rural Tlaxcalans—at least the more traditional among them—are strikingly positive about the transition from the world of the living to the world of the dead. The majority of the people do not conceive of death with such a radical finality as is probably the case with most or­ thodox Catholics. Rather, they think of death as a passage from one existence to another. This is expressed in the rites and ceremonies sur­ rounding death, but it is seldom expressed verbally in a coherent fash­ ion. The implication of people's behavior is that death is like a dividing line, a hurdle that one must get over, but that ultimately the worlds of the living and the dead become one. This conception has two parts. First, there is a life after death that is not different from what it is in this world: in the end, all are rewarded and everything is milk and honey, the dead behave like the living, the system of social relations is similar to that on earth, and the supernaturals conform to human standards. There is none of the idealization and allegory of traditional Catholic theology and popular belief, but neither is there the muted retreat of modern philosophical Christians, for whom neither rites and ceremo­ nies nor caritas and communitas are any longer the heart of religion and who conceive the afterlife in terms of principles and moral postu­ lates. For rural Tlaxcalans, to a large extent, what happens after life is conceived in terms of concrete events and familiar situations, governed by human logic and emotions.' Second, the souls of the dead are be­ lieved, sometimes concretely and sometimes vaguely, to assume a cor­ poreal form and existence, both as their normal state in the afterlife and when they return to the world of the living at least once a year for To­ dos Santos. This belief stems partly from the "misplaced concreteness" which rural Tlaxcalans exhibit so strongly. The concept of the soul as a noncorporeal entity is difficult for many people to grasp, and in their metaphors for thinking and talking about the dead they cannot help en­ dowing the soul with some corporeal form. These conceptions of a corporeal soul and the similarities between the living and the dead are perhaps not very different from the beliefs of European folk peoples or even of educated Christians. Indeed, there are several notions in Catholic theology and practice that bear resem­ blances to those of rural Tlaxcalan religion—e.g., the final judgment, 340

IDEOLOGY OF THE CULT OF THE DEAD

the suffering of the souls of the dead in purgatory, and some sort of return by the dead to the world of the living. These and probably other beliefs were unquestionably more prominent in the sixteenth century, when the Indians learned them, in one way or another, from the friars or other sectors of the Spanish population. Still, the syncretic synthesis of this part of the cult of the dead is more pre-Hispanic than Catholic, both in the ideology and in the belief system as well as in the discharge of rites and ceremonies; it is primarily polytheistic rather than monotheistic or monolatrous. It is not known for certain how long after the Spanish Conquest this conception of the afterlife remained a functional aspect of rural Tlaxcalan religion, but many elements survived until nearly the end of the nineteenth century. Most of them are now vestigial, but they are still latent in the societal consciousness and they continue to color and give symbolic meaning to several rites and ceremonies. Thus, although the four-year pilgrimage before reaching one's final destination, the river and its guardian dog, and the sojourn in the depths of the mountain are no longer parts of a coherently remembered whole, they still influence the general conception of the afterlife. Today, this conception is not a well-structured picture of Tlalocans, Mictlans, and a hierarchical organization of lords and retainers, but neither is it the orthodox nor folk-European picture of hell, purgatory, heaven, and a celestial Court. The concept of the afterlife for rural Tlaxcalans today is a rather incoherent, vague, and discontinuous syncretic synthesis, somewhat skewed toward the pagan, pre-Hispanic side by virtue of the symbolic, and to some extent ritual and ceremonial, role played by tutelary mountain owners, the surviving counterparts of full-fledged pre-Hispanic deities. The concept of different abodes in the afterlife is the most Christian aspect of the teleology of rural Tlaxcalan religion, but it too involves a number of pre-Hispanic elements. The two main abodes of dead souls are the Catholic heaven and purgatory. There are some deviations from the usual conception of these abodes, but they are well within the range of what would be tolerable to, say, a liberal priest. Chichihuacuaco, on the other hand, is almost the exact replica of the Christian limbo, and it can be considered a well-achieved syncretic element. The greatest departure from Christian orthodoxy is the absence of the concept of hell, the fire and brimstone of eternal damnation. The absence of hell is a reflection of the pragmatic, primarily nonmoral character of pre-Hispanic religion. The weakness, if not the absence, of the concept of sin and the low level of interest in confession and other sacraments of the Catholic church are probably corollaries of this feature. 341

CHAPTER ίο

The teleology of rural Tlaxcalan religion can be summarized in two general statements. First, there is a gradation of pre-Hispanic and Spanish Catholic elements. The former predominate in the subdomains of the categorization of kinds of dead souls and the passage from the realm of the living to the realm of the dead; Catholic elements are of greater importance in the subdomain of the afterlife, and they are func­ tionally dominant in that of the final destination of the dead. Second, the teleology is neither a coherent nor an integrated whole but a rather disparate conglomerate of elements that is more Catholic where the af­ terlife is concerned but more pre-Hispanic with respect to the living— that is, how and under what circumstances the dead can serve the in­ terests of those whom they left behind. Rural Tlaxcalans do not worry much about where they will end up in the afterlife or about the actions that will destine them to one abode or the other, since their functional equivalent of the Christian concept of sin is centered in the here and now. But they do pay a great deal of attention to honoring, remember­ ing, worshippping, and propitiating those who are in the afterlife, for the souls of the dead are vitally instrumental to the social and economic well-being of individuals and the collectivity. This idea is fundamen­ tally pre-Hispanic and only marginally Christian.

342

• 11 · PROVENANCE AND AMALGAMATION OF ELEMENTS IN THE SYNCRETIC PROCESS

The cult of the dead has retained more elements of pre-Hispanic origin than any other system of the traditional integrative core of rural Tlaxcalan culture and society, excepting only anthropomorphic supernaturalism. Nevertheless, in ideology and structure, the cult of the dead is a syncretic institution, whose several domains exhibit different mixes of pre-Hispanic and Catholic elements. In some domains, pre-Hispanic elements predominate and there is only a thin veneer of Catholicism; in others, Catholic elements predominate, with only a trace of the preHispanic; and in still others, the syncretic synthesis is well balanced. Most of the elements of the cult of the dead have already been identified in these pages as either pre-Hispanic or Catholic in origin, but the problems of provenance and convergence need to be more systematically discussed, and that is one aim of this chapter. In addition, it presents a preliminary analysis of the ideological and structural composition of the syncretic process and the main socioreligious parameters that conditioned the achievement of the synthesis.

T H E PROVENANCE OF ELEMENTS IN THE CULT OF THE DEAD

Many students of the cultures of central Mexico have attempted to disentangle the elements that are of pre-Hispanic Indian origin from those of Spanish origin. Among the common errors in this effort are to assign pre-Hispanic origin to an element that is Spanish, not realizing that, although it may no longer be a functional aspect of European society, it may once have been so; and to overlook convergences between the two traditions and the presence of elements diffused from other cultures or universal or nearly universal in their distribution.1 The following discussion seeks to correct these errors and misconceptions. Origins and Convergences of Elements In addition to occasional references, systematic efforts at identifying the origin of elements of the cult of the dead have been made at five previous places in this monograph: in the discussion of beliefs and practices revolving around All Souls Day at the close of the Middle Ages 343

CHAPTER 11

(chapter ι ) ; in presenting a list of similarities, parallelisms, and conver­ gences between the pre-Hispanic and the sixteenth-century Catholic cults of the dead (chapter 3); in detailing the contents of the household ofrenda (chapter 7); in the description of the decoration of the graves (chapter 8); and in presenting lists of the beliefs surrounding the wor­ ship and propitiation of dead souls (chapter 10). Inasmuch as the last of these in effect subsumes the others, it will be used here to summarize these attributions of origin. In the following classification, the arabic and roman numerals correspond to the statements of, respectively, functional and vestigial or low-incidence beliefs of the cult of the dead given in chapter 10. Pre-Hispanic beliefs and practices: 7, n , 12, 13, 17 (probably), 27, 18, 31, 33-35» 36 (probably), 40 (probably), 43, 44, 49-57; i-xvii. (Some of these may be interpreted, with symbolic license, as conver­ gences.) Spanish Catholic (Christian) beliefs and practices: 6,10 (probably), 14-16, 18, 20-22, 26, 45 (probably), 48, 58. (Most of these are com­ mon to Christianity in general, but a few are exclusively Catholic.) Convergent beliefs and practices: 1, 2, 3 (probably), 4 (probably), 5 (probably), 8, 9, 19 (essentially), 23, 24, 25 (probably), 29, 30 (essen­ tially), 32, 37, 38, 39 (essentially), 41, 42 (essentially), 46, 47. Three points need to be made in order to clarify the questions of provenance and syncretization. First, determination of the origin of an element gains its importance in the context of the study of syncretism. In the case of the cult of the dead, the historical evidence is good enough to allow the identification, with an adequate degree of accuracy, of the pre-Hispanic and Spanish Catholic origin of the elements that triggered the syncretic process up to the end of the seventeenth century. But from then until the late nineteenth century, the evidence is either inconclu­ sive or nonexistent. During those two centuries, the basic configuration of the cult of the dead in rural Tlaxcala did not change, but elabora­ tions appeared that probably altered the general balance of the insti­ tution and the relative importance of its domains and subdomains. The inherently symbolic and expressive nature of the cult of the dead makes its components highly susceptible to experimentation and elaboration. Consider, as an example, the ofrenda in the household. The ofrenda has been assigned to pre-Hispanic origin. There is no specific, definitive evidence that the pre-Hispanic peoples of Central Mexico prepared an elaborate arrangement of offerings for the return­ ing dead on any of the several celebrations when the dead were honored and remembered. On the other hand, there is no evidence that such a

344

THE SYNCRETIC PROCESS

practice was established in sixteenth-century Spanish folk Catholicism, either, although in several regions of Spain, and probably in many other parts of Europe, some food was placed in the kitchen for the returning dead and garments belonging to the recently departed were displayed on the family altar. When all this evidence was assessed, it seemed that the elaborate cfrenda set up in traditional households today is probably of pre-Hispanic rather than of Spanish Catholic origin (although a case could be made for the practice as a convergence). Obviously, we do not know what the ofrenda looked like at the end of the seventeenth century, but we do know what it was like two centuries later. By extrapolation, it can be inferred that the ofrenda must have changed in these two centuries, as the people experimented with new offerings, new arrangements, and new raw materials. The same has probably been the case with the majority of the seventy-five beliefs and practices associated with the cult of the dead. Thus, it is important to determine the provenance of the elements of the syncretic complex on the basis not only of what can be directly observed but of what can be extrapolated by the comparison of well-documented cross-sections in time. Second, the combinations of pre-Hispanic, Catholic, and convergent elements in the cult of the dead cover the entire range of possibilities. The composition of most of the seventy-five domains of the cult of the dead can be arranged in a gradation of types, as follows: (i) Domains (or subdomains) that have survived relatively intact since the beginning of the syncretic process. Pre-Hispanic examples of this type are the Xocotl Huetzi ceremony and the rites at the spring of Cuahuixmatla, most of the vestigial and low-incidence beliefs (i-xvii, fully functional until probably the first decade of this century), and a few practices or subdomains entailed by the beliefs concerned with the different kinds of deaths and what transpires in the afterlife before dead souls reach their final destination. Beliefs 6, 14, 15, and 16, all concerned with the final destination of the dead, are examples from the Catholic side. (It is interesting to note that the sixteenth-century beliefs concerning the destination of the dead are fading from what has been called modern philosophical Catholicism, yet they have remained intact in rutal Tlaxcala, and in many other folk contexts. Equally interesting is the fact that the pre-Hispanic beliefs concerning the destination of the dead that were functional at the turn of the century have been replaced by the Catholic complex consisting of beliefs 6, 14, 15, and 16.) (2) Domains that have been largely syncretized, so that it is no longer possible to reconstruct entirely their original components, although 345

CHAPTER i i

there is no doubt about their provenance at the time of the initial confrontation. This is the result of a thorough amalgamation of the elements of a well-achieved interacting element into another complex not necessarily part of the syncretic synthesis (as discussed below). Pre-Hispanic examples are beliefs n , 12, 13, 27 and 28; Spanish Catholic examples are beliefs 18, 20, 21, and 22. (These examples are given with reference to sixteenth-century Catholicism, which may or may not be functional today even in Catholic environments.) (3) Domains that have been asymmetrically syncretized, perhaps with other elements not directly related to the initial syncretic context, resulting in a blurred situation. In such cases, it is still possible to determine the provenance of elements, but not precisely how they were amalgamated nor whether they evolved after the initiation of the syncretic process. These domains of the cult of the dead represent the widest possible differences in the socioreligious traditions in interaction where the resulting process may still be called syncretic. Pre-Hispanic examples are beliefs 33, 34,43,44, and 49; Spanish Catholic examples are beliefs 10, 26, 48, and 58. (4) Symmetrically convergent beliefs and practices present in fairly equal degrees of intensity and extensiveness in the pre-Hispanic and Spanish Catholic traditions. The presence of relatively many symmetrical convergences is probably the main condition necessary for a thoroughly syncretized synthesis, in which the blending of elements of the two traditions is balanced and harmonious. (To a significant extent, this is the case with the cult of the dead as a whole, for it is the most syncretized institution in the religion of rural Tlaxcala.) Beliefs and associated practices 1, 23, 24, 37, 4 1 , and 46 are examples of symmetrical convergences. (5) Asymmetrical convergences of beliefs and practices present in different (sometimes minimal) degrees of intensity and extensiveness in the two traditions. These convergences contribute to the overall process of syncretism, but not to a balanced and harmonious final product. Beliefs and associated practices 2, 8, 9, 38, and 48 are examples of asymmetrical convergences. Third, according to the above breakdown, there are forty-one preHispanic, thirteen Spanish Catholic, and twenty-one convergent beliefs and practices in the cult of the dead of rural Tlaxcala. On the basis of these figures, the cult of the dead appears to be predominantly pre-Hispanic. However, the situation is actually more balanced, for not all the beliefs and practices possess the same degree of intensity and extensiveness. 346

THE SYNCRETIC PROCESS

Integration of Elements The heart of the cult of the dead in Mesoamerica is the Todos Santos celebration, and the aspects of Todos Santos that have attracted most of the attention paid to it are the ofrenda in the household and the decoration of the graves in the cemetery. The prevalent assumption has been that the former is entirely oi pre-Hispanic origin and the latter entirely of Spanish Catholic origin. This error arises, ironically, from the fact that students of Mexican culture are more knowledgeable about the socioreligious complex of pre-Hispanic Mexico than about sixteenth-century Spanish Catholicism. Elements present today in Indian folk religion but not in conventional Catholicism are thus assigned to pre-Hispanic origin, in ignorance of the fact that many aspects of Catholicism that were fully functional at all levels of Spanish society in the sixteenth century have survived only in the Indian folk religion. One confirmation of this tendency is that it is much more common for Spanish Catholic elements to be assigned to pre-Hispanic origins than the reverse. Specifically, when a present-day belief or practice in the cult of the dead departs significantly from what is considered modern Catholicism, the tendency of scholars, both Mexican and foreign, is to assume that it must be of pre-Hispanic origin, for the almost magical aura that surrounded the dead in the sixteenth century has virtually disappeared from the environment of those writing about the cult of the dead today. An example is the frequent assertion that the practice of strewing zempoalxochitl flowers to indicate to the returning dead the way to the ofrenda on Todos Santos is of pre-Hispanic origin. As was pointed out earlier (chapter i), the practice was actually common in European Christianity. At most, there was a similar practice in pre-Hispanic Mexico, when, for the feast of Hueymiccaylhuitl, the people stood on the roofs of their houses and, facing north, entreated the dead to return. The belief that the souls of dead kinsmen return when a person is about to die and the association of the mayordomias with the protective attributes of dead souls are also often wrongly assigned to pre-Hispanic origins. Among the convergences subjected to the same error are the beliefs that the souls of the dead return for Todos Santos, both in spirit and in some corporeal form, and that the souls of the dead return at other times during the year to molest or frighten those people who mistreated them while they were alive; and the practices of placing treats and special items of clothing in the ofrenda for the enjoyment of the returning souls, and holding the vigil of La Llorada in the cemetery on the night of November 1-2.. It hardly needs to be said that the accurate 347

CHAPTER I i

determination of the provenance of beliefs and practices is a prerequisite to the proper conceptualization of syncretism. To outsiders, the most prominent aspects of the cult of the dead are the household ofrenda, with its numerous offerings and exotic items, the decoration of the graves, and the commonly verbalized beliefs concerning the return of the dead, La Llorada, La Despedida, and the position of dead souls vis-a-vis the living. This set of elements looks and sounds different and unusual, and the impulse is to assume it is nonCatholic. This impulse could be changed by observation of aspects of the cult of the dead that become apparent only at other times of the year, for these display as many Catholic as pre-Hispanic elements. A more nearly correct breakdown, then, would be the following: The most prominent beliefs and practices of pre-Hispanic origin are the symbolic meaning of the household ofrenda; the offerings to the various kinds of dead souls, epitomized by the ofrenda de primer muerto; the magical ambiance of the Todos Santos celebration; the differentiation in the worship and propitiation of dead souls; the social and theological conception of death, especially the refusal to accept or conceive of the existence of the Christian hell; a conception of the dead that amounts almost to deification; the relationship of dead souls to tutelary mountain owners, as illustrated by the detour that certain souls make in the abode of the owners on the way to their final destination; and the fertility overtones and protective attributes of dead souls, especially those of infants and children. The most prominent beliefs and practices of Spanish Catholic origin are the public aspects of the cult of the dead, centered socioreligiously in the mayordomia system and physically in the church; the decoration of the graves and the socioreligious organization associated with it; the household altar and the attendant rites and ceremonies; the equation of the dead souls with the saints; the ultimate destination of the dead in terms of heaven and purgatory and the degrees of penance undergone in the latter; and the protection afforded by dead souls to those who are about to die. The domains in the cult of the dead are not of equal intensity and extensiveness—that is, not equally important and encompassing in overall structural discharge. The household ofrenda and the decoration of the graves are complex domains; the former especially involves several subdomains involving manifold beliefs and practices. These two domains embrace a much broader corpus of behavior than, say, La Llorada or La Despedida. The division of dead souls according to the circumstances of death is more complex and important than the rather vague conception of the afterlife, or the disorganized representation of 348

THE SYNCRETIC PROCESS

the events experienced by dead souls before reaching their final destination. There are two reasons for measuring the intensity and extensiveness of the domains of the cult of the dead. First, it demonstrates that most of these domains are complex entities that more often than not include both pre-Hispanic and Catholic components. It is obvious that the household ofrenda is a highly complex expressive symbol and structural display composed of multiple parts underlain by beliefs that are both pre-Hispanic and Catholic, interwoven in an intricate pattern (see chapters 6 and 7). It is less obvious that the same is true, if to a lesser degree, of the conceptions of the afterlife and the ultimate destination of the dead, in which an essentially Catholic complex is tinged and modified by pre-Hispanic beliefs. Thus, measurement of intensity and extensiveness is an operation necessary to the making of correct ideological and structural assignments. Second, and as a corollary of the first reason, the decomposition of domains is an essential task for determining the differential inputs of the interacting socioreligious traditions, and ultimately for ascertaining their efficacy and influence in the achieved syncretic synthesis. In summary, it can be said that the cult of the dead in rural Tlaxcala is predominantly pre-Hispanic in ideology and in specific beliefs, while in structure and practice it is a more or less balanced amalgam of preHispanic and Spanish Catholic elements. Symmetry, Asymmetry, and Universality Convergences are structurally and ideologically important for the achievement of a syncretic synthesis, and this is particularly the case at the beginning of the confrontation of the socioreligious traditions. Without some degree of symmetrical convergence, syncretism would probably not take place, and the interaction of two sociocultural traditions would result instead in acculturation, following a developmental cycle. In the present case, it may be said that, on the basis of structural and ideological similarities between the pre-Hispanic and Spanish Catholic traditions, the ayuntamiento religioso and the cult of the saints (including the cult of the dead) are syncretic institutions; the compadrazgo system and the barrio organization are acculturative institutions; and anthropomorphic supernaturalism is essentially preHispanic, while the organization of the congregation is essentially Spanish Catholic.2 Refining the point further, the cult of the dead is an even better-integrated and well-rounded syncretic product than either the ayuntamiento religioso or the cult of the saints by itself. There is no 349

CHAPTER i i

other institution in the socioreligious system that is built on more convergences, and it is doubtful that another institution can be found in Mesoamerican culture and society in general with such a high degree of similarity in the original interacting traditions. Symmetrically convergent beliefs and practices constitute the matrix in which a syncretic synthesis is achieved, and ultimately they determine the form and basic content of the final product. It is in this sense that symmetrically convergent elements constitute the necessary conditions for syncretism to take place, and the higher the number of symmetrical convergences affecting two interacting socioreligious traditions, the more balanced and integrated the resultant synthesis. In this process, both structural elements and ideological complexes are important, but the latter probably have more effect on the final product, because ideological components can be manipulated more easily during the process than can structural elements. In other words, ideological elements can be endowed or fleshed out with actual practices, during the experimentation that characterizes the syncretic process, to arrive at a more congruent result than is possible by blending structural elements taken directly from the interacting traditions. Asymmetrically convergent beliefs and practices also contribute to the syncretic blending, but they are chiefly responsible for the imbalances that any syncretic synthesis is bound to exhibit. What usually happens is that one of the two asymmetrical elements in interaction prevails and ultimately predominates. It is also the case that asymmetrical components are generally specific structural elements, although in the final synthesis it is often difficult to ascertain what came from one or the other tradition. At some point, asymmetrical convergence becomes merely the absorption of one sociocultural tradition by another, typically the one with the greatest power. The amalgamation of Roman and Greek religion, or of Roman and Germanic religion, was not a case of syncretism but rather one of absorption, whereas the incorporation of Persian or Near Eastern gods or rites and ceremonies into Roman religion was essentially a case of syncretism. But the rise of Christianity, despite the asymmetry of its synthesis of Indo-European polytheism and Hebrew monotheism, was undoubtedly a case of syncretism. From this viewpoint, the monolatrous religion of rural Tlaxcala (and of many other regions of Mesoamerica) is a classic case of syncretism, the outcome of a large number of convergences of pre-Hispanic polytheism and Spanish Catholicism. Of the seventy-five identified beliefs and practices of the cult of the dead, twenty-one are convergences (four of them probable). It is this set of convergences that was instrumental in structuring the cult of the dead into the most successful syncretic in350

THE SYNCRETIC PROCESS

stitution of the socioreligious core of local culture and society. Among these convergences, the beliefs and practices that, in chapter 10, were listed as numbers i, 2, 8, 9, 23, 24, 29, 32, 37, 38, and 41 are symmetrical; and numbers 3, 4, 5, 19, 25, 30, 39, 42, 46, and 47 are asymmetrical. This is a fairly even distribution, but on the whole the symmetrical convergences are more prominent and have a higher degree of intensity and extensiveness than the asymmetrical ones. Furthermore, a closer study of sixteenth-century Spanish Catholicism and European Christianity would reveal even more convergences, both symmetrical and asymmetrical. This at least is the impression from the excellent account by Foster (1960:150, 198, 201-203) of the cultural background and the social, economic, political, and religious institutions of Spanish origin that played a part in the conquest and colonization of the New World. Although Foster does not say much about the cult of the dead, what he does say about several regions of contemporary Spain provides clues to what the practices were in the early sixteenth century. The most prominent convergent beliefs and practices of the cult of the dead are the return of dead souls for Todos Santos and at other times to help or be with their living kinsmen, or on particular occasions such as when a person is about to die; the virtual deification of the dead and the position of dead souls as intermediaries between humans and the higher supernaturals; the power of dead souls either to act as intermediaries or to grant entreaties and requests in their own right; the willingness of dead souls to hear supplications and to help if properly propitiated; the division of labor among dead souls; La Llorada, La Despedida, and other rites and ceremonies of Todos Santos; and special offerings and displays in the household altar and ofrenda in honor of particular departed souls. An analysis of convergences in the cult of the dead would be incomplete without some reference to its possibly universal aspects. Concern with and rites and ceremonies surrounding death and the dead do indeed seem to be a cultural universal, or very nearly so. In an opportunity and stratified sample of one hundred societies at various stages of development drawn by the author from the Human Relations Area File, more than 90 percent had conceptions and beliefs concerning the dead and their relationship to the living that replicated at least ten of the seventy-five beliefs and practices connected with the cult of the dead in rural Tlaxcala. More than 70 percent had rites and ceremonies surrounding death that are the functional or structural equivalents of those described in this monograph. There are many similarities in beliefs about death, what transpires after death, and relationships between the living and the dead among the great world or state religions 351

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(Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, Zoroastrianism, Buddhism, Shintoism, Sikhism, and so on, as well as the classical religions of Greece, Rome, Egypt, Mesopotamia, Mesoamerica, etc.). To some extent, the same can be said of the polytheistic religions of many tribal or state-organized societies in Asia, Africa, Oceania, and the Americas. This is not surprising if, as some scholars maintain (John M. Roberts, personal communication), all polytheistic pantheons had a single origin, and monotheism developed out of polytheism. This line of reasoning can be extended further, to include the animistic, animatistic, and pantheistic systems which constitute the majority of religions. In these systems, too, there appear to be a substantial number of universal beliefs and practices, from the perhaps minimally important association of the color white with purity and the souls of dead children to the belief in the corporeal or spiritual return of dead souls on particular occasions. There are a limited number of possible conceptions of death, the afterlife, and the modes of relationship between the living and the dead. Be that as it may, the more or less universal elements in the cult of the dead in rural Tlaxcala are essentially the same as the convergences between the pre-Hispanic and Spanish Catholic traditions. Among the most salient of them are the beliefs that in one form or another, the dead return to visit the living at various times during the year; that there is communication between the living and the dead, the living honoring the dead with ritual and physical offerings and the dead protecting the living and sending them good things; that the dead have direct or indirect power to influence the lives of those whom they left behind; that the dead are special protectors of the household or kin group, and the souls of dead kinsmen are the most effective of dead souls; and that the souls of the dead are to be specially worshipped on a set day or days, but communication with those no longer here can take place at any time. To a lesser extent, shared elements also include the ways of symbolizing death (e.g., bones and the colors white and red), forms of burial, conceptions of the afterlife, the final destination of dead souls, and the different kinds of death. Broadly speaking, the common denominator revolves around the practical concerns of communicating with the dead and securing from them benefits for the living. To sum up, the cult of the dead is a complex array of elements of preHispanic, Spanish Catholic, and convergent origin. The blend of elements is not uniform in all its domains, and different parts of the array exhibit different combinations of ideological and structural elements. The ideological configuration of the cult of the dead is predominantly pre-Hispanic, but its structural discharge is pre-Hispanic and Catholic 352

THE SYNCRETIC PROCESS

in more or less equal measure. The manifest discharge of the overall socioreligious complex is more Christian than pre-Hispanic, but its latent manifestation has a mostly pre-Hispanic content. Despite this compositional unevenness, the cult of the dead is the best-achieved syncretic institution of the socioreligious core, and probably approaches the limit of what a fully symmetrical synthesis can actually be. IDEOLOGICAL AND STRUCTURAL OUTCOMES OF THE SYNCRETIC PROCESS

At the beginning of chapter 3, the outline of a limited-range theory of syncretism was presented to account for the syncretic synthesis of several socioreligious institutions in Tlaxcala and with implications for most of Mesoamerica and several other areas of Spanish America. Shifting now exclusively to the cult of the dead, and focusing as much as possible on the synchronic situation, the analysis will deal with the interactions among the pre-Hispanic, Spanish Catholic, and convergent elements, on the one hand, and the dynamic parameters of the final syncretic synthesis, on the other. Asymmetries in Syncretism The description and analysis of the ideology and belief system of the cult of the dead and its physical components and practices have already revealed much about the process of syncretism and the way in which elements of different provenances have amalgamated to produce the situation that can be observed today. By looking at the final syncretic product from several vantage points, variations in shades of meaning and in structural discharge have been brought out. The emphasis so far has been on the asymmetrical and skewed aspects of syncretism; now the picture needs to be rounded out by presenting the symmetrical factors. A profitable way to study change is to conceive it as transformation in ideological structures and belief systems, which in turn mold the necessary and sufficient causes of observable physical elements, practices, and behavior. Syncretism, of course, is one kind of change, the least violent and dislocating kind when the confrontation of two or more sociocultural traditions is involved. In this view, the amalgamation of elements in syncretism is not a direct process (that is, specific practices and behaviors are not incorporated directly from the socioreligious traditions); it is rather the consequence of the acceptance or rejection of elements in the ideology and belief system. More precisely, even if a par353

CHAPTER η

ticular element seems to be taken directly from one of the sociocultural traditions (for example, the use of bread and European fruits as offer­ ings for the dead, which began shortly after the conquest), its incorpo­ ration into the syncretic synthesis obeys ultimately ideological de­ mands. In fact, all borrowed practices and behaviors are modified in varying degrees to fit into the ideological synthesis. The initial conditions for the syncretic process are given primarily by symmetrical convergences; they are the most effective catalyst in the ensuing process. More than this, the driving force seems to be some central ideological feature of the interacting socioreligious traditions. In the case of the cult of the dead, this central figure is the almost iden­ tical position of dead souls as intermediaries between humans and the higher supernatural in both pre-Hispanic polytheism and Spanish Ca­ tholicism. It is around this nucleus that the syncretic cult of the dead began to coalesce. Other symmetrical convergences reinforce the or­ ganic crystallization in progress and may even accelerate it. In such a propitious environment, elements that do not lend themselves to incor­ poration into the developing synthesis are symbolically manipulated so as to fit in with a minimum of dislocation. Under such conditions, a fi­ nal syncretic synthesis can hardly be expected to be a balanced combi­ nation of discrete ideological domains. Rather, it is more likely to be a patchwork pattern, in which the degree of symmetry and the relative density of the interacting traditions are determined by the parameters that shape the syncretic process. Asymmetrical convergences are not conducive to balance and neatness, but they do lend themselves well to the symbolic manipulations and transpositions that are important to a functional syncretic synthesis. It is in this light that the checkered pat­ tern exhibited by the cult of the dead must be interpreted. Once the basic syncretic synthesis has coalesced into an organic en­ tity in which the people are no longer aware of the origins of separate elements, and the institution or system has acquired self-regulating mechanisms, the situation can be said to be in a state of equilibrium. This condition for the cult of the dead was reached by the second half of the seventeenth century. While one might say that syncretism stopped there, it does not mean that the cult of the dead ceased to evolve. Changes did occur during the next two centuries, but they were minor and mostly adaptations to changing economic, social, and reli­ gious conditions. Around the beginning of the twentieth century, more important transformations took place, but these were "syncretic," in the sense of being an outcome of a confrontation between two different socioreligious traditions. They resulted, rather, from conflicts between 354

THE SYNCRETIC PROCESS the traditional cult of the dead (which in 1900 would probably have been more intelligible to a Tlaxcalan of 1680 than to one of 1980) and the modern, secularized cult of the dead, controlled by a new, nonsacred ideology. Nevertheless, these changes can be explained by the same factors that explained the original syncretic synthesis. The heart of the process leading to a syncretic synthesis is the struggle of two ideologies in contention. In the end, what characterizes the final product is the way in which the contending ideologies have blended or not blended. In asymmetrical syncretism, one ideology asserts itself over the other. This has been the case with the cult of the saints and the ayuntamiento religioso, in which, even though many structural elements of these systems are pre-Hispanic, the underlying ideology is essentially Catholic. In symmetric syncretism, the contending ideologies are more or less balanced. This type of situation is very rare, and we do not have good examples of it. The cult of the dead is basically asymmetrical, but it is as balanced a syncretic synthesis as is possible when one ideology predominates over the other—in this case, the pre-Hispanic rather than the Catholic ideology. Although, strictly speaking, what has transformed the cult of the dead since the turn of the century (and especially during the past generation) cannot be construed as syncretism, the confrontation of the traditional, sacred ideology of the institution and an emerging secular, modern ideology has structured the changes that can be observed today. In the same way, the struggle that is going on today between these contending ideologies will ultimately determine the synthesis of ideological and structural elements in the more or less secular context. The only difference between what happened from the time of the conquest to the middle of the seventeenth century and what is happening in this century is that, in the latter case, the secular ideology will so completely dominate that the cult of the dead will have changed almost beyond recognition. Once the syncretic synthesis has been achieved, and to some extent while the developmental cycle is still going on, the question of need becomes a factor in further change. To a large extent, need affects mostly specific structural elements, such as material items and prescribed rites. Given the loss of certain physical and social elements of the receding pre-Hispanic culture, rural Tlaxcalans found it necessary to borrow what they needed from what was available. The replacement of amaranth by wheat as one of the main ingredients in the offerings to the dead is an example of the process of structural recomposition in the cult of the dead. (For other examples, see chapter 6.) 555

CHAPTER i i

Parameters of the Synthesis The parameters that have conditioned the development of the cult of the dead as a syncretic institution have been discussed separately, but they are brought together here to provide a comprehensive gestalt of how they have operated. The parameters are four: the spontaneous nature of the syncretic process; the private, household emphasis in the cult of the dead; the "marginal" position of the domain; and the ascendance of the Catholic ideology in the global religious system of rural Tlaxcalans. The process that produced the syncretic cult of the dead was a spontaneous one, as contrasted with the guided development of other syncretic institutions, such as the cult of the saints and the ayuntamiento religioso (see chapter 3). Those in charge of conversion and catechization of the Indians, the Franciscan friars, had few direct inputs into the syncretic matrix, except to present the Indians with the basic tenets concerning the souls of the dead in heaven and purgatory in the Catholic pantheon. The friars also gave the Indians relatively broad latitude for experimentation and for adapting and assimilating elements from both the pre-Hispanic and the Catholic traditions. Unconstrained by any insistence on orthodoxy, the Indians were able to retain many elements of their own cult of the dead that would not have been tolerated in domains that came under the direct guidance of the friars. The fertility overtones of the cult of the dead, its relationship to tutelary mountain owners and anthropomorphic supernaturalism, and several of the practices surrounding Todos Santos owe their presence to this factor. The emphasis on the private aspects of the cult of the dead was probably the Indians' conscious choice, though it must have been influenced by the fact that in both the pre-Hispanic and the Spanish Catholic traditions, the cult of the dead was more of a private than a public institution. However, it also acquired a public component, undoubtedly fostered by the friars, who sought to use it as a means of accelerating conversion and catechization by emphasizing an identification with its Catholic counterpart. From the beginning, the public aspects of the cult of the dead became part of the cult of the saints and was thereby centered on the mayordomia system, as attested to by the fact that some of the earliest local sponsorships in the ayuntamiento religioso were concerned with the souls of the dead. This dichotomization of the cult of the dead into private and public components had two main consequences. First, the public aspects became the incentive and model for many of the private aspects. Second, the public and thus Catholic components of the cult of the dead provided the largest number of, and the 356

THE SYNCRETIC PROCESS

most important, rites and ceremonies that came to replace the pre-Hispanic practices in the worship and propitiation of the dead. These Catholic rites and ceremonies blended with what survived from the old polytheism and provided new substance to the pre-Hispanic ideology. (These processes occurred once again in the generation after i960, except that the inputs then came from the secular context and so threatened to undermine the traditional ideology of the cult of the dead altogether.) In other words, the dichotomization of the cult of the dead made it possible for its private component to become a syncretic entity; otherwise, it would have remained largely a pre-Hispanic institution, much like anthropomorphic supernaturalism. The "marginality" of the cult of the dead does not imply that the institution was a peripheral one. Quite the contrary; the cult of the dead was fundamental to the old polytheistic religion, and quite important in folk and, to a significant extent, orthodox Spanish Catholicism. It was marginal only in the context of conversion and catechization. The friars being few and their Indian flocks very large, the Franciscans had to concentrate on what they considered the more central aspects of their ministry, such as the administration of the sacraments, the physical organization of the congregation, and the administration of local religion. The cult of the dead therefore did not receive much attention from the religious authorities, thereby escaping many of the controls and pressures to which centrally located institutions were subjected. It was marginality in this sense that made it possible for the cult of the dead to syncretize spontaneously.3 After the cult had coalesced in the second half of the seventeenth century, the situation did not change, for the secular clergy who replaced the friars were unconcerned with redressing the skewed syncretic synthesis or in any event helpless to alter it. Indeed, it is doubtful that more than a handful of local priests today are even aware of the cult's departures from orthodoxy. The predominance of the Catholic ideology in the global religious synthesis had effects that were contrary to those of the other three parameters. The spontaneous character of the syncretic process, the emphasis on the private aspects of the cult of the dead, and its marginal position entailed basically the same consequences: a relatively high degree of freedom in the process of the blending of elements; a creativity in combining them; and the retention of more pre-Hispanic elements than would otherwise have been possible. But the ideology of Catholicism was a powerful counterbalancing mechanism. Its influence made itself felt in two respects: it gave at least an outward Catholic appearance to many practices and behaviors; and, more important, it provided the Indians with a whole array of ritual and ceremonial practices. 357

CHAPTER Ii

Ironically, after the change of Catholic leadership from the friars to the secular clergy, the pre-Hispanic ideology of the cult of the dead (and of several other subsystems of the local religion) reasserted itself. When, after independence, the secular clergy tried to regain control over their Indian flocks, it was already too late; the cult of the dead, and other domains of the local religion, retained the syncretic but ideologically pre-Hispanic ideology that had been forged by the second half of the seventeenth century. One of the most important consequences of this syncretism is the fact that the Indians learned to put up a good front before whatever religious authorities watched over them. They mask their syncretic manipulations and the retention of pre-Hispanic elements in their religious practices by cloaking them with a mantle of ritual and ceremonial orthodoxy, and they maintain a separation between the discharge of pagan and Catholic rites and ceremonies. Many communities are reluctant to engage in religious ceremonies in the presence of the local or visiting priest or even lay outsiders. In short, the cult of the dead and other domains of local religion are complex and internally differentiated entities in which a monistic ideology (more pre-Hispanic than Catholic) underlies a pluralistic structure (of pagan, folk, and orthodox elements). In conclusion, this chapter has decomposed the elements of the cult of the dead in terms of their pre-Hispanic, Spanish Catholic, and convergent provenance. It has also presented a theory of syncretism that accounts for the initial conditions of spontaneity, privacy, and marginality in which the final synthesis was achieved as well as for the ideological-structural configuration that the cult of the dead exhibits today in rural Tlaxcala. The analytic approach has shown the value of extrapolating not only from the past to the present, but from the present to the past.

358

• 12 · THE TRANSFORMATION OF THE CULT OF THE DEAD SINCE i960

Great changes have occurred in the cult of the dead since i960, the ethnographic present of this monograph. In this chapter, the changes are described, are placed within the context of a theory of modernization and secularization, and are compared with changes in other institutions in the local socioreligious system. A LIMITED-RANGE THEORY OF SOCIOCULTURAL CHANGE

In previous works, a theory of sociocultural change has been developed in connection with discussions of rural Tlaxcalan culture and society in general (Nutini and Isaac 1974:366-372., 431-444) and of the compadrazgo system (Nutini and Bell 1980:364-374). The changes experienced by the cult of the dead since the beginning of this century until i960 parallel those that took place in rural Tlaxcala generally during the same period, but the changes that it has undergone during the past generation are more akin to those experienced by compadrazgo in the previous generation. While a few aspects of the cult of the dead still remain traditional, most of its components have become secularized and even perfunctory. The Concepts of Modernization and Secularization The major concepts to be employed in describing and analyzing the transformation of rural Tlaxcala during the past four generations are those of modernization and secularization. Modernization is the influence on a rural culture of a national or urban culture, manifested primarily in the realm of material culture and subsistence patterns. By itself and over short periods, this influence does not suffice to transform other domains of the rural culture, at least not in a permanent fashion. Secularization, on the other hand, refers to a type of change that tends to transform the fundamental institutions of the community, often resulting in their breakdown and disorganization. Modernization alone may leave the community's traditional structure basically intact over a relatively long period. Eventually, however, its cumulative effects initiate the process of secularization. Secularization disturbs traditional 359

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institutions both by increasing modernization and by virtue of the reaction of certain segments of the traditional structure to the pressures from the outside. Finally, secularization, once well established, creates a new ideology that radically reorganizes the institutional structure. Within the same culture area, there may be communities (and institutions in the community) at all four of these stages of change. In this conceptualization, communities that outwardly appear to be changing rapidly yet continue to adhere to traditional culture are said to be experiencing modernization but not secularization. In rural Tlaxcala, these are communities in which the majority of the labor force is made up of wageworkers, the standard of living is relatively high, and Nahuatl is no longer spoken, but the mayordomias have increased in number and elaboration, and kinship, compadrazgo, and political life still form an integrated complex. Modernization in rural Tlaxcala began nearly a century ago, with the introduction of factory work into the region; secularization, however, did not begin until about 1940, and in some communities it was not evident even as late as 1980. The Structural Context of Secularization The main forces in the secularization of rural Tlaxcala have been economic: land pressure and land erosion, leading to labor migration within and beyond the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley. Secularization is expressed most overtly in the outward-looking attitude in most rural Tlaxcalan communities, and a tendency to adopt urban or urban-Mestizo elements and adapt them to rural community life. The adoption of elements is always selective, however, and their adaptation to the communal setting may greatly modify their original form and content. Most rural Tlaxcalan communities today are curious combinations of old and new elements in a sociocultural system that is in a state of transition from predominantly Indian to predominantly Mestizo. In 1900, about half the population of rural Tlaxcala lived in traditional Indian communities, where the language and culture were still basically Indian, even if modified somewhat by contact with the outside world. About 30 percent lived in transitional Indian communities, in which substantial proportions of Mestizo-urban elements could be observed, and the remaining 20 percent lived in transitional Mestizo communities, in which the proportion of Mestizo-urban elements was even higher, though some traditional elements were still in evidence. By i960, only about 12 percent were living in traditional Indian communities; 35 percent lived in transitional Indian communities and 45 percent in transitional Mestizo communities; while the other 8 percent were living in secularized Mestizo communities, a type that had made 360

TRANSFORMATION OF THE CULT OF THE DEAD

its appearance around 1935 and in which the transition to Mestizo urban culture was complete or nearly so. By 1985, the proportion of the population in traditional Indian communities had dwindled to 5 percent and the proportion in transitional Indian communities had also declined, to 15 percent. More than half the population (5 5 percent) was living in transitional Mestizo communities, and the proportion in secularized Mestizo communities had risen to 25 percent. Most of the change between i960 and 1985 occurred during the second half of the period. What above all marks the transition from a traditional to a secularized community is the emergence of an economic domain on a par, structurally and functionally, with the social and religious domains. In the traditional culture, economic behavior was an aspect of, or even subordinate to, the social and religious domains. With the advent of secularization, economic considerations began to be separated from the social and religious domains and to influence and transform them. 1 In the internalization of adopted elements or of whole complexes from the outside—from simple items such as clothing to more complex ones such as a new religious practice—economic considerations become much more important than in traditional times. In rural Tlaxcalan society, despite the pressures from economic determinants, several traditional institutions and beliefs have been able to survive and in some cases have been able to accommodate themselves to the new economic conditions. These institutions and beliefs include witchcraft, sorcery, curing, soul loss, tutelary mountain owners, and various anthropomorphic and nonanthropomorphic supernaturals; the folk organization of Catholic practices surrounding the cult of the saints and the cult of the dead; the mayordomia system and the ayuntamiento religioso; barrio socioreligious organization; certain aspects of the kinship system; and the compadrazgo system—in short, what has been referred to throughout this study as the traditional integrative core of local community culture and society. From a theoretical viewpoint, crystallization of the economic domain as an independent entity marks the transition of a community from a traditional orientation to a modern and urban one. An adequate theory of sociocultural change must determine how that came about and must also lead the way toward techniques for measuring the pressures and constraints that economic considerations exert on traditional institutions.

The Ideological Component of Secularization One important consequence of secularization is the transformation of the ideological basis of community life from a primarily socioreli361

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gious to a primarily economic one. From a theoretical viewpoint, ideology must be placed outside the operational realm of a sociocultural system or subsystem, for in order to understand how a system works or changes through time, the articulation of its ideology and its structure and functions must be studied. Ideological changes come first, and structural and functional changes must be viewed with respect to them. The stimulus for an ideological transformation may, of course, be certain structural or even functional characteristics (for example, the physical and demographic constraints leading to labor migration), but as the system moves toward stability, the new ideology begins in turn to influence the structural-functional domain. In traditional rural Tlaxcala, the ideology was rooted in social and religious concepts. Starting approximately in the 1880s, this began to change. For a variety of reasons, which are primarily material and demographic and are related to the introduction of modern technology into the area, the ideology began to incorporate many aspects of the economic outlook of the urban, industrial world. By 1940 or so, this outlook had emerged as the dominant force in the world view of about one fourth of the communities in the area. It is true that the traditional ideology has proven resistant to displacement, and even today (1985) in several communities a battle is being waged between the contending ideologies. Nevertheless, the most likely outcome is that, in another fifteen years or so, the few remaining traditional Indian communities will have disappeared, only a handful of transitional Indian communities will remain, and rural Tlaxcala will have been reduced to just one more rural Mestizo region in Central Mexico, perhaps retaining some elements of its Indian past, but fairly well integrated into the national mainstream in all sectors of the sociocultural system. Tlaxcala will no longer be identifiable as a distinct ethnic group in the pluriethnic mosaic of Mexico.

T H E SEQUENCE OF CHANGES IN THE CULT OF THE DEAD

As an aid in understanding the transformation that the cult of the dead has undergone since i960, it will be helpful to give first a broad outline of the changes in the institution since the turn of the century. At that time, the celebration of Todos Santos was second in importance only to Holy Week in the annual cycle. At the household level, it consumed more time, effort, and resources than any other ritual and ceremonial complex, surpassing the participation in and expenditures for the mayordomias or even the highest positions in the ayuntamiento religioso 362

TRANSFORMATION OF THE CULT OF THE DEAD

sponsored by the nonresidential extended family or larger networks of kinsmen and compadres. The high points of the celebration were meticulously discharged according to traditional canons. The arrival of the returning dead souls, La Llorada, and La Despedida were highly ritualized, and great circumspection was demanded of all. The household ofrenda and the decoration of graves in the cemetery were not as elaborate and complex as described for the ethnographic present, but they exhibited traditional standards of arrangement and display and were executed in a more ritualistic and ceremonial fashion. The great majority of offerings, decorations, and accouterments for arrangement and display were locally cultivated and homemade. The exchange of personal ofrendas was highly institutionalized, and breaches of etiquette among kinsmen, compadres, and religious officials were frowned upon. The nonresidential extended family functioned smoothly and efficiently as the social unit responsible for setting up the ancestral ofrenda and the token ofrendas in its dependent households. Each person's role in the activities was known and understood and was scrupulously carried out. 1 The four other main occasions on which the souls of the dead were remembered and honored (January 5, February 2, June 26, and December 16) were also elaborate affairs, both in the household and in church, involving ritual displays and ceremonial meals with the participation of large numbers of kinsmen, compadres, and friends. Ideologically and symbolically, the cult of the dead was well integrated into a religious system that embraced elements of folk Catholicism and the pagan pre-Hispanic complex. The fertility overtones of the cult were much in evidence, and the protective attributes of the souls of the dead permeated several aspects of the socioreligious system. For example, the graves of children and infants were profusely decorated with white flowers during the month of August, and infants participated in fertility rites on the slopes of La Malintzi and El Cuatlapanga. The magical aspects of the cult of the dead were also much in evidence (see the discussion of vestigial beliefs in chapter 10). In sum, the cult of the dead was, in 1900, at the heart of the pagan-folk-Catholic religion of rural Tlaxcala. The Modernizing Context,

1900-1940

The foregoing configuration of the cult of the dead began to change with the Mexican Revolution of 1910. Although the armed conflict of the revolution affected the Tlaxcalan area much less than other areas of Central Mexico, it did cause a certain amount of social dislocation. The 363

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other force that stimulated modernization was the rise in labor migration (see Nutini and Bell 1980:235-246) and the consequent diversification of economic activities engaged in by the gainfully employed. Many closed-corporate communities became relatively open. The first noticeable changes in the cult of the dead appeared around 1920. The offerings in the household ofrenda, instead of being ceremonially burned or buried, were disposed of in various utilitarian ways (see chapter 5). Somewhat later, there was a decline in the precision and elaborateness of execution of the rites and ceremonies surrounding the cult of the dead. On the other hand, because of the economic affluence growing out of labor migration, the household ofrenda and the decoration of graves achieved their peak of development during the next two decades. Concomitantly, there was a decline in the symbolism of the ofrenda, the individual offerings, the grave decorations, resulting from the fact that most households no longer had the time to cultivate the flowers or fashion the various decorations, which they now bought at the market instead. Only the most important offerings, such as the pan de muertos, continued to be made at home. Even in the early 1940s, the ideology and belief system of the cult of the dead were still traditional, in that the people adhered to their main tenets, and the worship and propitiation of dead souls were still discharged in an ambiance of magic and sacredness and occupied a prominent place in the cult of the saints. But by the end of the decade, most of the seventeen beliefs described in chapter 10 as being of low incidence or vestigial were well on the way to reaching that condition. In many communities, the intimate, explicit relationships among the cult of the dead, tutelary mountain owners, and anthropomorphic supernaturals were receding and taking on the veiled or implicit character that they had at the ethnographic present of this monograph. Furthermore, whereas at the turn of the century the ideology and belief system of the cult of the dead were uniform throughout rural Tlaxcala, from the late 1930s onward, variations in intensity and extensiveness began to appear; the ideology showed cracks and strains. Henceforth, the sacred was to be conditioned by economic considerations and the saving of time, money, and effort. The Secularizing Context, 1940-1960 The first signs of secularization of the ayuntamiento religioso and the compadrazgo system could be seen in the late 1930s and early 1940s, but not until the early 1950s were there serious departures from the beliefs and practices of the cult of the dead. This delayed onset may have 364

TRANSFORMATION OF THE CULT OF THE DEAD

had something to do with the expressive underpinnings of the institution, which were easier to discharge economically in the earlier phase of the secularizing process. But from i960 onward, compadrazgo proved better able to adapt itself to new economic conditions than the cult of the dead, because of the greater social utility that the former enjoyed. Earlier in this chapter, communities were classified as being traditional Indian, transitional Indian, transitional Mestizo, and secularized Mestizo. However, within each community there are households at different stages, and when it comes to specific institutions rather than the overall socioreligious system, the household is the more appropriate unit. The same classification can be used, however, the key indicator being the type of ofrenda that the household displayed (see chapter 7). Thus, in i960, about 65 percent of all households in rural Tlaxcala were traditional Indian, displaying classic ofrendas; about 15 percent were transitional Indian, displaying baroque ofrendas; and 10 percent were transitional Mestizo, displaying the elaborate transitional ofrendas. The remaining 10 percent of households were secularized, in that they displayed acculturated ofrendas; this included about 6 or 7 percent located in the dozen or so most secularized communities and 3 or 4 percent located in other communities, a few of them being found in even the most traditional communities. It should be borne in mind that, until a generation ago, the cult of the dead was as yet more traditional than any other domain of the socioreligious core of rural Tlaxcalan culture, except for anthropomorphic supernaturalism. Since then, it has changed more rapidly than other institutions. Rural Tlaxcala has never again exhibited the high degree of sociocultural uniformity that it had at that time. DEMISE OF THE TRADITIONAL CULT OF THE DEAD

There may still be two or three traditional rural Tlaxcalan communities in which not only the cult of the dead but also most of the other institutions of the traditional socioreligious core have basically not changed since i960, or perhaps even since 1940. We are not now concerned with these survivals but rather with the much larger number of communities in which there has been a very rapid transformation of the cult of the dead, especially during the past fifteen years. It is important to analyze this change because it probably indicates what is in store for the other institutions of the integrative socioreligious core of rural Tlaxcala. As in the case of the previous period (1940-1960), the secularizing 365

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stage of the cult of the dead began imperceptibly and slowly. Again, this can be explained in terms of the still weak influence of the developing secular ideology, in the ambiance of which some of the largely expressive aspects of the cult of the dead could be discharged without undue strain. The ten years following i960 were a period of vigorous modernization, which made significant inroads in the ideology and belief system of the cult of the dead. Most of the resulting changes, however, took the form of cutting corners in ritual practices (using more offerings bought at the market, decorating graves less profusely, reducing the number of rites associated with the differences among kinds of dead souls). The classic-traditional and baroque-traditional ofrendas still predominated in most communities, the graves were still quite lavishly decorated, and most of the central beliefs of the cult of the dead could be well verbalized by the people. The turning point came in 1970. Suddenly, secularization invaded many communities. So rapid was the process of change that some communities skipped a stage. People no longer wanted to talk about the old customs, beliefs, and practices, even in communities where a few years earlier Nahuatl had been the daily language of adults. By the summer of 1974, the magnitude of change was so great as to produce something like culture shock in a returning observer who had long been familiar with the region. The impact of this abrupt and unexpected change led to a prediction of the rapid secularization of compadrazgo and kinship institutions as well (Nutini and Bell 1980:373), but this proved to be wrong, for it did not take into account the social utility of the former and the inherently expressive character of the latter. Nevertheless, the other components of the traditional socioreligious core are suffering the same fate as the cult of the dead, and their demise can be expected within the next fifteen years or so—that is, their transformation into new configurations of structural and ideological elements, even if some of the original form may still be latently present. For example, sacred, horizontal compadrazgo is being transformed into secular, vertical compadrazgo, as it is practiced in most lower- and middle-class urban environments in Central Mexico; while the ayuntamiento religioso and the mayordomia system are being transformed into religious associations controlled by the priest, as in many urban environments. Using the same classification that was used earlier, the distribution of rural Tlaxcalan households among types in 1985 was as follows: (1) Traditional Indian, 5 percent (displaying classic traditional ofrendas, decorating graves in traditional fashion, and actively practicing the cult of the dead throughout the year in traditional ways). (2) Transitional Indian, 10 percent (displaying baroque traditional ofrendas, decorat366

TRANSFORMATION OF THE CULT OF THE DEAD

ing graves fairly elaborately but no longer in traditional ways, and practicing the cult of the dead throughout the year in an abbreviated form). (3) Transitional Mestizo, 25 percent (displaying elaborate transitional ofrendas, decorating the graves in elaborate but gaudy ways, and otherwise practicing the cult of the dead in almost perfunctory form). (4) Secularized Mestizo, 60 percent (displaying acculturated ofrendas, decorating graves simply and casually, and for all practical purposes abandoning all other observances of the cult of the dead). This is virtually an inversion of what the situation had been in i960, and most of the change had taken place after 1970. The Demographic and Economic

Environment

The explanation of this sudden change lies in the joint action of several variables: rapid population growth; land pressure and land erosion; labor migration; increasingly efficient means of transportation and communication; increased educational and medical facilities; and greater contact with the national culture. The population of rural Tlaxcala increased steadily after 1900, but at a moderate and manageable pace until the early 1950s. What kept the rate of increase down was an appallingly high infant-mortality rate; as late as i960, nearly 50 percent of children (live births) died before the age of five. Meanwhile, beginning in the middle 1940s the central government had undertaken a program of highway and road construction, which by the late 1950s had connected the majority of the municipios with the main cities in the valley and the major highways of the federal system. This facilitated labor migration, allowing rural Tlaxcala to achieve modest economic growth. In such an environment, modernization made itself felt but not so overwhelmingly that the people could not retain their local traditions. Beginning in the middle 1960s, the sociodemographic conditions of rural Tlaxcala began to change with greater rapidity. The state and federal governments embarked on a program of more road and highway construction, the establishment of more local schools, and the first concerted effort to provide rural Tlaxcalans with medical facilities, both in community clinics and in the large urban clinics and hospitals of the social security system. Within about ten years, more than 70 percent of the labor force of the region earned a living by labor migration. Television had become a common household possession. The people had achieved a high degree of physical mobility and had many contacts with the city; the young especially were becoming increasingly restless and outward-oriented. Tlaxcala, which in i960 was a sleepy little town 367

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with fewer than fifty automobiles, was experiencing traffic jams and even boasted a few fancy hotels and restaurants. By 1980, the infant mortality rate had been reduced to less than 20 percent, while the birth rate remained the same (the average couple had between six and seven children). A population explosion was the inevitable result. From i960 to 1980, the population of the state of Tlaxcala nearly doubled, and that of many municipios, especially those surrounding La Malintzi, more than doubled. Rural Tlaxcalans are better off today than they were a generation ago in terms of medical care and perhaps of housing and entertainment. But they do not eat better, labor migration is the source of considerable stress, and the people do not seem to be more content. Perhaps only the young do not feel the unpleasantness of crowded village life, as they look forward to leaving the community to find work, to study, or to settle permanently in the city. In this environment, secularization has flourished, and the cult of the dead has been the most vulnerable institution of the traditional socioreligious core, because of its basically private, household character and seeming lack of social utility. Even today, most rural Tlaxcalans would hesitate to refuse to sponsor a mayordomia or to cut down on expenses for the wedding feast of a son, but they are not reluctant to display a token ofrenda in their household or to neglect their family graves. A few other factors, neither economic nor demographic, have contributed to the secularization of the cult of the dead. One of them has been the effort of the National Institute of Anthropology and History since 1976 to pave the atriums of most churches in rural Tlaxcala. There has been much opposition to this decision, but it has not been strong enough to stop it. Literally thousands of graves have been covered, leaving no trace except in the minds of the affected families. Among them were priceless examples of niched and tombstone graves dating back to the seventeenth century. Admittedly, however, this action may have been an effect rather than a cause—that is, something that the people wanted to see happen, because of their growing indifference to the decoration of the graves among other traditions. The Physical Transformations The cult of the dead can readily be analyzed into nine components. These are, in the order in which they were secularized: (1) ritual structure and ceremonial functions; (2) worship and propitiation of the dead souls during the year; (3) differentiation among kinds of dead souls; (4) structure of the main events of Todos Santos; (5) symbolic 368

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and expressive structure; (6) the household ofrenda; (7) the decoration of the graves; (8) public aspects; and (9) sociological functions. The secularizing changes in each of these components will be discussed. Early in the process of secularization, it became evident that people were becoming much more matter-of-fact about the rites and ceremonies of the cult of the dead. The air of gravity that had accompanied them, and their elegant and stately character, were giving way to a more mundane attitude. By the mid-1970s, the precision of such rites as La Llorada and La Despedida and the solemn devotion that had attended the setting up of the ofrenda, the decoration of the graves, and the erection of crosses for the dead were nearly gone. Traditionalists complained, and some people did occasionally try to recapture the ritual and ceremonial quality of old, but most people simply no longer cared about what they regarded as the "quaintness" of the past. The rites and ceremonies have become abbreviated versions of what they used to be, thus leaving more time and energy for labor migration and other activities outside the community; and they are conducted in a straightforward fashion, a direct reflection of secularization. Very soon after the decline of ritualism and ceremonialism had set in, the worship and propitiation of the dead souls also began to decline. By the middle to late 1970s, the four days for honoring the dead (other than Todos Santos) were being marked with no more than a few prayers in front of the household altar. By 1985, even that had virtually disappeared from most households. On the other hand, part of the household cult of the dead has been taken over by the mayordomias of the dead souls, which still celebrate and honor specific dead souls at least on January 5 and February 2. All that remains are sporadic occasions when the family gathers in front of the household altar for a specific reason: to ask for rain or the faster maturation of crops, to plead for protection against the tlahuelpuchi (who, even today, sometimes strikes); or to invoke the protection or assistance of the souls in purgatory for a person who is about to die or to embark on a long trip. These entreaties are good examples of the utilitarian, pragmatic aspects of the cult of the dead (and of rural Tlaxcalan religion in general), which are likely to survive for some time. But they are already regarded as measures of last resort. The first noticeable change in the differentiation among kinds of dead souls was that the rites and ceremonies associated with those who die violently or as a result of accidents were no longer performed. (An exception to this, however, was the ritual for those who die due to accidents on the highway; most people still try to erect a cross according to tradition when this happens. This can again be interpreted as one of 369

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those pragmatic religious acts now becoming latent.) Similarly, the specific procedures associated with the different kinds of dead during Todos Santos are no longer discharged, nor are the particular offerings in their honor any longer displayed. People still occasionally entreat specific infants and children, and sometimes specific adults, or the collectivity of these categories, and may offer them flowers and candles, but this aspect of the cult of the dead has also mostly been absorbed by the mayordomia system, which usually has at least two sponsorships for the dead souls. Among the events of Todos Santos, La Llorada is still performed in a number of communities, but only as a rather pale reflection of the magical and symbolic occasion that it once was. La Despedida has become a brief farewell involving a few prayers, and the disposition of the offerings of the ofrenda is nothing more than a redistribution of goods. In fact, the entire Todos Santos cycle has been desacralized and has acquired a social aspect that emphasizes relations among humans rather than between humans and the souls of the dead. The former ambiance of respect and circumspection has been replaced by a festive atmosphere in which the people celebrate the return of the living who have left the community rather than the return of the dead. It is still the case, however, that people do not get drunk or engage in the kind of raucous behavior that characterizes secular celebrations. The decay of symbolism and expressive behavior in the cult of the dead refers to the fact that people are forgetting what the offerings, decorations, arrangements, and displays are supposed to denote and what they are supposed to accomplish; consequently, they are no longer used or are greatly simplified (see the description of the acculturated ofrenda in chapter 7). In this state of affairs, the symbolism of the ofrenda as a whole and of its component parts has been lost in the minds of most people. Moreover, a classic-traditional ofrenda today would cost more than 80,000 pesos (U.S. $400), approximately three times the average monthly salary of a factory worker in the valley. Only the most affluent households would be able to afford such a display, and most of those are already too secularized to want to do it. Somewhat the same can be said about the decoration of the graves, for which most people are no longer willing to spend thousands of pesos. Nowadays, people give priority to other kinds of economic obligations and turn to less expensive activities to satisfy their expressive needs. In other words, expression itself has become secularized. The final step in the secularization of the ofrenda occurred remarkably abruptly. For the Todos Santos celebration in 1974, many house-

37°

TRANSFORMATION OF THE CULT OF THE DEAD

holds still displayed classic and baroque traditional ofrendas. The following year, only a few traditional ofrendas were to be seen, and the quality and quantity of offerings and decorations had drastically declined. The suddenness of the change is quite inexplicable; but in any case, the deterioration continued in subsequent years. Today, the setting up of ofrendas has become a perfunctory custom, with perhaps some residual expressive and social functions. The main elements are still there—the pan de muertos, a few confections and fruits, an occasional cooked dish, some of the decorations—but the ensemble is displayed without a coherent pattern and without any attempt at symbolic structuring.' Oddly enough, at the Todos Santos celebration in 1984, many households still oriented the ofrenda in the north-south direction and adhered to a few vestigial pre-Hispanic usages. It is almost as if something in the societal subconsciousness kept directing them to do things in a certain way, or perhaps, as a materialist would say, it was simply the force of habit. There is an ironic epilogue to this transformation. Since 1981, the cultural-extension office of the government of the state of Tlaxcala has sponsored in the city of Tlaxcala a context of ofrendas on November 1 and 2.. Individuals and communities may participate, and prizes are awarded. The avowed purpose of the contest is to foster "the preservation of traditional customs," but actually it is a device for attracting tourists. The ofrendas are set up under the sixteenth-century portales (arcades) of the central square. Although they have some traditional elements, for the most part they consist of what the sponsors (villagers, students, and some civic organizations) think traditionalism was, in addition to the gaudiness they conceive as pleasing to visitors. They lack focus and proportion and are but a spurious expression of tradition. The decoration of the graves outlived the setting up of ofrendas by a few years, but in 1978-1979 it, too, underwent an abrupt change. On visits to the cemeteries of twenty communities on November z, 1984, they were found to be drab and unkempt; in some cases, less than half of the graves had been decorated at all. The majority of those that were decorated had only a few bunches of zempoalxochitl, stocks, and baby's breath, and there were a few badly executed traditional patterns. Even in Tepeyango, Totolac, and Atlihuetzian, the once outstanding displays and decorations (see chapter 8) were gone. Only in the more isolated communities (which were not necessarily the most traditional) were there a few fairly well-decorated graves. Several factors contributed to this change: the paving of the atriums, the recession that the country has been experiencing, and the permanent migration of rural 371

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Tlaxcalans to the city (which began in earnest about eight or nine years ago). The two components of the cult of the dead that have been best able to weather the effects of secularization are its public aspects and its sociological functions. The public aspects are basically coterminous with the mayordomia system, as has been pointed out before, and the main reason for their resistance to secularization is precisely the fact that they are embedded in that domain, which has proven to be adaptable to, and apparently useful in, the rapidly changing conditions of the past generation. Mayordomias sponsoring any of the several forms of dead souls are still found in most communities. Indeed, it appears that several of the protective and propitiating aspects of the private cult of the dead (such as asking for rain, good crops, and safety for travelers) have been transferred to the supplicating components of one or more mayordomias. The public cult of the dead thus seems likely to endure as long as the mayordomia system is a functional aspect of local religion. The sociological functions of the cult of the dead have lasted because of their usefulness in connection with the sacralization of individual relationships and the return of permanent migrants from the city for the Todos Santos celebration. The personal ofrenda is still offered to or exchanged with kinsmen and compadres; the period between October 27 and November 9 is still observed as a time of renewal, model behavior, and intensification of bonds; and the migrants for the most part still return for this occasion. But even these aspects of the cult of the dead have been altered: the exchange of personal ofrendas has become matter-of-fact, without the ritualism of the old days; Todos Santos has acquired a more secular, festive mood; and family reunions, too, are now more social than religious events. In summary, the cult of the dead in rural Tlaxcala was, by 1985, an uneven conglomerate of domains and subdomains that have undergone different degrees of secularization. All domains have suffered structural and functional transformations, but some more than others, and the institution is still short of complete Mestizoization. The most visible changes have taken place in the physical and expressive structure of the institution, and this may lead the observer to overestimate the extent of the transformation. There is no question, however, that the cult of the dead today is ritually, ceremonially, expressively, and symbolically merely a pale remnant of what it was a generation ago. The structure of the institution may not change much more, but functionally it will adapt to a much more secular context, and it will probably remain in this ambivalent state for some time. 372

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The Ideological Transformation According to the theory of ideological-structural integration set forth in this monograph, the changes in the cult of the dead that have been described flow from changes in the ideology and belief system of the institution. The links are sometimes obvious and sometimes not. All that can be done at this point is to give a general account of how the ideology and belief system have changed, how they have influenced structural discharge, and how and under what constraints a new ideology is emerging. The eight premises that the cult of the dead shares with the traditional integrative core of the community (see chapter io) have changed more for the former than for the latter. Those numbered 2, 4, 5, 7, and 8 have been transformed the most—that is, have decreased in efficacious intensity and extensiveness—and it is these transformations that have had the greatest effect on the structural discharge of the cult of the dead. It is the continuing efficaciousness of numbers 1,3, and 6 that has kept the cult of the dead from total Mestizoization. There is no question that rural Tlaxcalans still believe that the cult of the dead performs certain useful religious and social functions, and that in one way or another it brings people together for beneficial purposes. But they are no longer willing to adhere to traditional injunctions and commands that entail undue expenditures of money, time, and effort. As for the ten exclusive injunctions and commands regulating the cult of the dead, I and II are still fairly efficacious in structuring what remains of the cult; III, IV, V, and VII are weakening; and VI, VIII, IX, and X have little efficacy left. Even more than the inclusive injunctions and commands, the exclusive ones demonstrate that, in the course of secularization, while people may retain an ideological viewpoint (which sometimes may be quite strong), it is no longer readily translated into expenditures of money and other scarce resources. Many people may still believe, for example, that the souls of the dead watch over the maturation of the crops and are instrumental in warding off malevolent anthropomorphic supernaturals, but they no longer feel compelled to devote a great deal of attention to the rites, ceremonies, and behaviors required by those beliefs. From this kind of attitude and behavior there is only a short step to what may be called action and behavior of "last resort"—that is, triggered by extreme conditions of anxiety and stress; and when these are no longer discharged, the transition to a secularized Mestizo situation is complete. The discharge of the nine immediate directives of the cult of the dead (designated a-i in chapter 10) most clearly demonstrates its disarray, 373

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for it is easier to ascertain compliance with them than to measure the efficacy of the more abstract premises and injunctions. Responses to questionnaires administered to twelve people each of ten communities show that overall compliance with those directives was nearly 70 percent in 1975; by 1980, it had dropped to about 50 percent, and in 1985 it was no more than 3 5 percent.4 Practically none of the nine directives is today complied with 80 percent of the time or more. Those directives that do not imply the discharge of precise beliefs received the most positive affect; that is, people were most likely to verbalize positive compliance with them. (In a few instances where it was possible to compare what informants said they did or would do with what they actually did—e.g., in connection with the display of ofrendas in the household and the decorating of graves—the observed behaviors corresponded well with the verbal statements.) For example, most informants would categorically maintain that it was a necessity to comply with all rites, ceremonies, functions, and activities in honoring and worshipping the dead (directive i); but when it came to the discharge of specific beliefs (such as displaying offerings required in the ofrenda for specific dead souls, or performing rites in honor of certain infants or children), they made excuses, balked, and hesitated. The fifty-eight beliefs that constitute the belief system of the cult of the dead can be classified into three categories in terms of the degree of change they have undergone: (a) Beliefs that are still quite traditional: i, 2, 5, 6, 14, 15, 16, 20, 23, and 46. These have not changed at least during the past generation, although their discharge is no longer as complete and scrupulous as it once was. (b) Beliefs that have suffered slight to serious modification: 3, 4, 8 , 9 , 1 0 , 1 2 , 1 3 , 1 7 , 1 8 , 21, 22, 24, 25, 27, 29, 30, 31, 32, 35, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 45, 47, 48, 49, and 58. Most of these beliefs can probably still be verbalized by a considerable percentage of the population, but their efficaciousness ranges from moderate to minimal, (c) Beliefs that by 1985 had been added to the ranks of disappearing and vestigial ones: 7, 11,19, 26, 28, 33, 34, 36,43,44, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, and 57. Almost all of these beliefs can be verbalized by only a small proportion of the population, they are no longer efficacious, and they are only occasionally manifestly activated. The fact that only ten of these beliefs have remained more or less unchanged is a strong indication that the cult of the dead is now a new institution, simplified, impoverished, and to some extent trivialized by the process of secularization. It is notable that the constraints and pressures of modernization have brought about an even more rapid demise of Indian than of folk-Catholic beliefs, for the former are more likely to 374

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be labelled as "old-fashioned" or as "superstitions." Thus, a rural Tlaxcalan today would probably say that it is superstitious, perhaps nonsense, to believe that La Malintzi is particularly fond of children (belief 51), and may even deny the existence of this pagan supernatural, although he would not hesitate to invoke La Malintzi on behalf of an infant whose death was attributed to the tlahuelpuchi. This kind of ambivalence has plagued most of the domains of the traditional socioreligious core during the past generation, and it is in this context that the rising secular ideology enforces not only a reallocation of economic, social, and religious resources, but produces psychological pressures and constraints which accelerate the process of secularization. The changes in the belief system of the cult of the dead during the past generation can be summarized as follows. First, slowly at the beginning but with increasing rapidity, the nascent secular ideology modified peripheral and then more central beliefs, leading to a decline in the discharge of the rites, ceremonies, and other activities required by the beliefs. The decline began with the cutting of a corner here and there; a diminution in the extent of participation followed; and finally, the practice was discontinued altogether. The beliefs that were first and most markedly affected were those that prescribed behavior that was costly in money and other resources. Next, certain attitudes changed, in the direction of those that characterized urban populations. Beliefs that were rooted in the Indian past, that deviated too much from folk-Catholic orthodoxy, or that might look "peculiar" to strangers, were increasingly regarded as somewhat shameful remnants of the past, as surviving only among "those inditos up in the hills," as "backward customs." This attitude of shame and denial of the Indian past has been a major factor—second only to the economic pressures of the new secular ideology—in the transformation of the cult of the dead. Ironically, however, rural Tlaxcalans continue to observe socioreligious customs that are unmistakably Indian but whose origins they are no longer able to verbalize. The final result has been that what was once the complex teleology and eschatology of the cult of the dead and associated complexes has been transformed into a sparse domain, with none of its former richness and intricacy. It should be added, however, that the ideology and practice of orthodox Catholicism has itself undergone a similar transformation. The conception of the afterlife in Catholicism has gone from a rich, complex domain with a vast social organization of angels, archangels, seraphim, cherubim, dominations, thrones, and other supernatural personages, including the souls of saints and of ordinary 375

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mortals whose souls ended up in heaven, to a kind of drab, depopulated, and theologically thin picture. As long as the emerging secular ideology affected only the economic aspects of the cult of the dead, one could speak of the cult as a changing but still largely traditional institution. But when it began to affect social, religious, and symbolic dimensions of the system, the cult of the dead ceased to be traditional, a point which most rural Tlaxcalan communities had reached by 1980. Today, the compadrazgo system in most rural Tlaxcalan communities is at the effective threshold of secularization, as the cult of the dead was in 1970. The mayordomia system and the ayuntamiento religioso, the other two key religious institutions of the integrative core, are not far behind, and there are signs that, within the next fifteen years or so, these institutions, too, will go the way of the cult of the dead. In the final stage of this process, rural Tlaxcala will be fully incorporated into the cultural mainstream of the nation, and its people will lose the cultural identity that had kept them for four centuries as a distinct group.

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• 13THE EXPRESSIVE APPROACH

One of the main theoretical viewpoints that has guided the description and analysis in this monograph has been the expressive approach. This is an approach that has been neglected in the anthropological literature, for which there seem to be two chief reasons. On the one hand, the distinction between structure and expression is not easy to visualize or to conceptualize. In the intellectual climate of the past three generations, dominated by the various forms of historical materialism and functionalism, it has generally been the practice to regard expression (and, by extension, values, beliefs, and ideology) as a residual aspect of the social structure or as being altogether outside the conceptual domain of individuals and groups in interaction. On the other hand, insofar as expression has been dealt with at all in anthropology, the tendency has been to regard it as idiosyncratic, individually discharged, and not readily amenable to scientific inquiry. Nevertheless, the failure to tackle the problems of expression has left a large corpus of human behavior unaccounted for. Although there is as yet no adequate operational definition of expression, nor a working theory of expressive behavior, the concepts can play useful roles in the analysis of sociocultural phenomena. The following tentative remarks about the expressive approach reflect the results of both the present work and a study of the Mexican aristocracy and haute bourgeoisie that John M. Roberts and I have been conducting during the past four years. Their aim is to suggest how the expressive approach may be employed in the study of institutions that, like the cult of the dead, have a high degree of physical manifestation. The basic tools of expressive analysis are discussed, and the salient forms and contexts of expression are given some substantive content with reference to certain psychological, social, and religious constraints.

ATTITUDES AND LOCI OF THE EXPRESSIVE ARRAY

The defining characteristic of expressive behavior is that it is noninstrumental, that is, it represents an end in itself. Roberts expresses this property of expressive behavior by saying that "it is linked to antecedent psychological states"—which is to say that the motivation and discharge of expressive behavior is conditioned by the individual's reac377

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tion or adaptation to aspects of the social structure. It should be emphasized, however, that although expressive behavior is individually manifested, it nonetheless has a collective form and context, and it is these which are of primary concern here. From a nonpsychologist's point of view, expressive behavior may be defined as the individual and collective choices that the actors of a structural domain or social system can make, which by themselves do not necessarily lead to changes in the domain or system but rather are expressions of whatever changing conditions the domain or system is experiencing. In other words, the motivation of expressive behavior is of a nonutilitarian or noninstrumental kind, but in functional terms, expressive behavior is an integral part of the social structure, reflecting certain processes in the social system. This is why it can be said that many culturally defined forms are not the manifestation of material conditions alone. It is this consideration that makes it so important for anthropologists to pay much more attention to expressive culture than they have so far. While this conception of expressive behavior is the most useful one sociologically, it is only one of several ways to approach the study of these concepts and what they mean in the conduct of studies of social structure. Expressive behavior is intrinsically a universal of culture that either is associated with manifestly noninstrumental domains (art, music, play, games, manners, etiquette, dress, and so on) or colors certain aspects of utilitarian domains (religion, warfare, the economy, subsistence and diet, and so on). Indeed, any domain of culture or the social structure may have an expressive component, which, temporarily or permanently, continuously or intermittently, shapes some parts of behavior. From this viewpoint, expression is not the ontological counterpart of structure, but another epistemological dimension of culture, anchored in the psychological unity of mankind but discharged in thousands of social environments. This aspect of expressive behavior may be called its "inherent" form, while the aspect discussed previously is its "structurally motivated" form. The former is an inherent component of human behavior, while the latter is directly linked to antecedent psychological states, but both are discharged in structured ways within generally well-delineated sociocultural domains. Just as the organization and the constituent elements of the social structure vary in time and space, vertically and horizontally, so also do the configuration and form of social expression. Thus, if social expression is to be a field of scientific inquiry, it needs a technical vocabulary comparable to that which anthropologists have devised to analyze the units and concepts of the social structure. In this respect, Roberts and his collaborators have already developed a number of concepts de378

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signed specifically for the analysis of expressive culture and behavior. More than any other anthropologist, Roberts has been able to formulate the concepts of expressive array and expressive domain as the basic units for the analysis of expressive culture and behavior. Taking cognizance of the universality of social expression and of the fact that there is a significant core of expressive forms in cultures throughout the world, Roberts's aim has been to delineate the basic categories and units with which a beginning can be made in the systematization of the study of expressive behavior, much as Kroeber, Lowie, and other pioneers did early in the century for the study of kinship. The expressive array has been defined by Roberts as the sum total of all patterns and contexts in a given culture that entirely or partially realize expression. Every culture has an expressive array that is peculiar to itself, in terms of intensity and the contexts in which expression is realized. In the absence of a working theory of expression and of systematic cross-cultural data on expressive behavior, little is known about the intensity and extensity of variation of expressive behavior or about the most common contexts in which expression is realized. Nonetheless, a couple of generalizations are possible. First, the contexts of play, of what is known in the West as the arts, of the various kinds of crafts, and of certain aspects of religion, kinship, and interpersonal relations appear to be the most likely ones in which expression is realized or to have a significant expressive component; while the more intrinsically utilitarian components of culture are the least likely. Second, there appears to be no intrinsic correlation between the extensiveness of the expressive array and the degree of evolutionary development of the sociocultural system. Rather, on the basis of what has been observed in Araucanian society (tribal), rural Tlaxcalan society (folk), and Mexican aristocratic society (urban), it seems that the size and complexity of the expressive array are more or less proportional to the size and complexity of the culture. Although every expressive array is unique in its patterning of contexts, this is not the case with respect to total content and form. Rather, one of the most characteristic attributes of the expressive array is that its global content and form, as well as those of specific contexts, are shared by several social systems, many spatially and temporally adjacent cultures, and perhaps by all the cultures of a culture area. Again, due to the pervasiveness of diffusion and other means of contact among cultures, there is every reason to believe that the global content of the expressive array is proportional to total culture content, given similar degrees of complexity. This generalization is particularly applicable in complex, state-organized societies since the emergence of the entity 379

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that Kroeber (1948:784) called the Ancient Oikumene, and of course in modern industrial societies. Indeed, one could make a case for a core of expressive content and form shared by all the subcultures of each of the great civilized traditions of the past two millennia (Western, Moslem, Hindu, Chinese, and so on). In this macroconception, every subculture has an expressive array which is both exclusively its own and inclusively shared by all other subcultures within its civilization or culture area. (The same is true of self-contained cultures within the traditional culture areas of the world, given similar ecological and environmental conditions.) Thus, the expressive arrays of Italians, French, Spanish, English, Germans, Russians, perhaps even Americans and Australians, have a degree of content and form that is exclusively their own, while the bulk of the arrays are shared by Western society as a whole. Again on the basis of observations among Araucanians, rural Tlaxcalans, and Mexican aristocrats, it may be estimated that about zo percent of the content of the expressive array of any subculture of a civilized tradition or culture area is exclusive and about 80 percent of it is shared by all its sister subcultures. Thus, for example, roughly 20 percent of the expressive array of rural Tlaxcalans is exclusively their own, while 80 percent of it is shared with rural Oaxacans, Yucatecans, Pueblans, Guatemalans, and other folk societies in Mesoamerica. The situation is of course more complicated when one takes into account the overlapping of tribal, folk, and urban societies and the effects of conquest and colonization. A further complication arises when the effects of class are taken into account. As far as expressive culture and behavior are concerned, class (and certainly caste) is probably the most important differentiating factor, both within a single cultural tradition and across several, sometimes quite different, cultural traditions. The expressive arrays of equivalent social classes are generally more similar across subcultures, and not infrequently even across different cultural traditions, than they are to those of other classes within the same subculture. For example, the expressive arrays of the English, French, Italian, and other Western aristocracies have more in common with each other (sometimes to the point of being indistinguishable) than they do with the expressive arrays even of other upper sectors in their respective stratification systems; and, in the same way, the expressive array of the Mexican aristocracy is more nearly similar to that of the Spanish or Italian aristocracy than to that of the Mexican upper-middle classes. Indeed, given certain social, economic, industrial, and commercial constraints and the efficient networks of communication and diffusion in the world today, one could speak of the expressive array of the rich and powerful, 380

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of international business and political bureaucracies, of diplomats, and even of "jet-setters." The same could be said about the expressive arrays of the middle and lower classes in Western society, perhaps even of the world, again due to the homogenizing effects of industrialization and the widespread diffusion of Western cultural complexes. One might even say that the expressive arrays of certain social classes (especially in the upper sectors of the stratification system) have more in common with the expressive arrays of the same social classes in other cultures than with other social classes of their own cultures, regardless of the sometimes great sociocultural differences in the stratification systems in which such arrays are embedded. The expressive array of the Mexican aristocracy, for example, is more similar to the expressive array of the Spanish or Italian aristocracy than to that of, say, the Mexican plutocrats or upper-middle classes, despite the fact that inclusively it has a majority of expressive contexts which aristocrats share in varying proportions with the entire Mexican stratification system, from its rural Indian sector to its upper sector in Mexico City. The reference here is to the exclusive core of expressive content and form, for the inclusive bulk of the content and form of expressive arrays is much more culturally or subculturally bound. The core of the expressive array of Mexican aristocrats is most of the content and form of the 20 percent mentioned above; the remaining 80 percent is shared in varying proportions with all other classes in Mexican society, since they have the same religion, are bound by many of the same social usages, and are constrained by the same political, environmental, and ecological variables. But that 20 percent is what distinguishes Mexican aristocrats as an expressive class from all other classes in Mexican society, as belonging to the larger class of Western aristocrats and perhaps to a world class of aristocrats. The same can be said about any social class in the Western world and perhaps in most of the industrial and industrializing world. In short, class is the most powerful social assorter of expression in the modern world. It is highly probable that the content and form of expressive arrays are much more constant and share many more patterns than the global cultural content of systems might indicate. While the main contexts of expression are the nonutilitarian aspects of culture, any aspect of culture may realize expressive behavior. There are probably no significant aspects of culture without potential expressive coloration. Most cultures, however, appear generally to realize expression in the contexts of religion, kinship, and social relationships, beyond, of course, the manifestly noninstrumental contexts of culture, which are probably among the most universal. Just as cultures are orj&i

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ganized around a number of contexts and themes beyond the exigencies of subsistence and shelter, so also the expressive array is organized around a number of characteristic contexts and themes. Aside from the universal contexts of art and play, what give an expressive array its characteristic configuration and flavor are the contextual loci of its realization. Sports, dress, and etiquette, for example, are important loci of expressive behavior in Western culture, while in many tribal societies, ritual, certain aspects of religion, and oral tradition seem to be the main loci of the expressive array. An adequate theory of expressive culture should be able to predict the main loci of expressive behavior, as functions of such variables as degree of societal complexity, mode of subsistence, demographic composition, ecological adaptation, and degree of change. At present, little more can be done than to identify certain thresholds that are significant for the analysis of expressive culture, and even that can be done only for the expressive components of Western culture and sociocultural situations that it has directly affected. Although anthropologists have not collected systematic bodies of data about expressive behavior in that universe, there is a useful body of information in historical accounts, novels of mores and manners, and journalism. However, Roberts and I have made a systematic study of expression among the contemporary Mexican aristocracy and haute bourgeoisie. These data are interesting both because they endeavor to be complete and because they deal with a segment of Western society that is embedded in an essentially non-Western setting with important ramifications concerning class, ethnicity, and pluralism—constituting auspicious conditions for the study of expressive behavior in the modern world. Complicating the task of predicting the main loci of expressive behavior is the fact that no aspect of culture is exclusively discharged either instrumentally or expressively all the time. From this viewpoint, expression may be regarded as the epistemological options that individuals have within the social structure. To put it differently, expressive behavior represents the psychological and social alternatives in a culture, the leeway available between structural requirements and individual choices. Given these considerations, there are basically three kinds of environments in which expression is realized. First, there are contexts that are primarily expressive—that is, contexts in which realized behavior is almost always expressive. Second, there are contexts in which behavior is at times expressive and at times instrumental for most of the actors. Third, there are contexts that are primarily instrumental but that are occasionally used as a vehicle for the realization of expression by some actors. These types require closer examination. 382

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(i) Most forms of art and play are good examples of the first kind of expressive environment. The games people play and the paintings, music, and sculpture produced by artists are essentially forms of expressive behavior; that is, their realized intent is noninstrumental. Admittedly, there are professional athletes and game players, and there are artists whose main goal is monetary gain rather than artistic production for its own sake. Nevertheless, the longest-lasting expressive contexts are those with an intrinsic expressive component, and they are the most universal. Perhaps all cultures have particular contexts and practices (often class-bound or structured by the division of labor or social segmentation) that are mostly expressive for most actors in the system. The tea ceremony in traditional Japan, the horse complex of Western aristocrats, and the setting up of the traditional ofrenda among rural Tlaxcalans are good examples of this type of enduring expressive context. (2) Probably most expression in most societies occurs in the second kind of environment. The elucidation and decomposition of this type of expressive behavior is the most difficult, for the contextual situations are multiple and involve sociopsychological options about which at the moment only tentative comments can be made. Concrete examples may best illustrate the difficulties; all are drawn from Western culture so that they will be familiar to most readers. Shopping for clothes is commonly an instrumental activity, but at different times and for different individuals and groups, it can be partly or even chiefly expressive. For many women, especially in the upper sectors of the stratificational system, buying items of their attire has traditionally been an expressive context, which can be decomposed into smaller parts, such as patronizing certain stores, selecting brand names, window-shopping, trying on garments, searching for certain patterns or styles, and so on. For most men, on the other hand, buying clothes has been an instrumental activity that may or may not have an expressive coloration. This difference in behavior between men and women has probably eroded a lot in recent decades, as more men approach buying clothes as an expressive activity while more women treat it as primarily utilitarian. Furthermore, the general activity of buying clothes may involve both expressive and instrumental components (simultaneously or sequentially), depending on social class, ethnic background, age, and other variables. Dress and adornment are even better examples, for more than buying clothes, these activities may reflect psychological motivations expressed in controlled social environments. Indeed, probably every segment or class of the various subcultures of Western society has its own contextual environments that characterize 383

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its expressive array and that may span the most diverse cultural environments. At a lower degree of incidence, and usually associated with particular classes or sectors, are the contexts and practices of travel, entertainment, food preparation and serving, interior decoration, collecting, hobbies, exhibiting, games of chance and strategy, visiting, and so on. A systematic study of expression involves the establishment of when, how, and under what conditions these contexts and practices realize expressive behavior and the specification of the extent of individual and collective realization of expression and the conditions that generate it. For instance, travel, interior decoration, exhibiting, and collecting are expressive activities that may be chiefly associated with the upper sectors of the stratification system, while visiting, food preparation and serving, hobbies, and games of chance and strategy may be of equal incidence in all sectors of the system, although in different forms and styles. Conversely, there are probably expressive activities that are much more associated with the lower sectors of the stratification system, such as certain sports, driving, watching television, certain forms of social gathering, and so on. A great deal of ethnographic work needs to be done before a clear picture emerges of what expressive culture is and how it is related to social structure. Some kinds of contextual expression in this second category are highly specialized, often confined to members of certain classes and interest groups. Belonging to clubs, doing charity work, organizing benefit balls, and participating in volunteer work are expressive activities generally associated with the socially prominent upper classes, while philanthropy, patronizing the arts, and exhibiting are usually associated with the rich and powerful. Storytelling, religious devotions, ritual and ceremonial involvement (in both sacred and secular events), and even many eccentricities may be regarded as expressive activities of individuals with certain psychological proclivities or belonging to certain special-interest groups. (3) The third type of context is lowest in incidence but probably of considerable saliency within the total expressive array, in terms of both antecedents and consequences for the social structure. This type of expression is the most difficult to detect, for it is intertwined with instrumental contexts and goals. Indeed, more often than not the contexts and practices of this appear to be entirely instrumental on the surface, and their expressive component must be sought beneath the instrumental goals and motivations. Politicians, religious seers, or captains of industry, while seeking their manifestly utilitarian aims, may be powerfully motivated by such expressive goals as the desire to assert 384

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their individuality or to gain attention for their effects (positive or negative) on the society. Becoming an activist for some cause, running for a local office, and joining a street gang may be the same kinds of activities at a more mundane level. These seemingly instrumental but expressively laden contexts are extremely important to study, for not only are they at the crux of understanding how psychological inputs affect socially determined outcomes, but they have practical importance in major historical events. T H E EXPRESSIVE DOMAIN

In the discussion so far, the term "domain" has been deliberately avoided, out of a desire to give it a fresh, more or less technical definition. Expressive domain is an operational unit that has been the subject of a number of studies by Roberts and his collaborators. Here, the concept will be placed within the wider context of ethnographic environments. The expressive domain is the basic component of the expressive array. It may be defined as any cultural context of environment in which expressive behavior is realized with some degree of semantic unity. The domain is not a fixed unit or entity of expressive realization, but rather can be aggregated to higher levels (broader domains) or decomposed to lower levels (narrower domains), according to the needs of the analysis. For example, in all subcultures of Western culture, sports constitutes a major expressive domain. This domain may be broken down into the domains (or subdomains) of individual sports and team sports; within these, into the sub-subdomains of track and field, golf, tennis, bowling, and so on, and of football, basketball, hockey, soccer, and so on. Some of these sports can be further decomposed into still narrower domains—e.g., track and field into sprints, middle-distance running, and field events—and even further into particular events such as the hundred-yard dash, the mile run, the marathon, the shotput, and the high jump. At the other extreme, large and complex domains, even some subdomains, of a global array can be regarded as arrays in their own right. Thus, the study of sports as an array of domains consisting of the major categories of sports would constitute a formidable undertaking; even the expressive study of a single sport such as track and field—in terms of twenty or more events for men and almost as many for women—as constituent domains would constitute a major undertaking. Each event has its own expressive configuration, but it also shares some aspects of expression with the sport of track and field as a whole. This notion of a shared semantic field of expression probably 385

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cannot be extended beyond the major domains of a given global array—that is, the expressive array of a well-defined culture, subculture, or permanently organized social segment such as a class. However, continuing with the example of sports, one could conceivably make the case that all the sports in the complex domain of sports of, say, the global array of American culture constitute a meaningful expressive semantic field. Another good example of a well-defined expressive domain in the subcultures of Western society is dressing. From traditional folk dressing in the Balkans and southern Europe to the high fashions of Paris and New York, dressing has always been a domain of expressive realization in Western cultures. Given the many levels (sports clothes, everyday wear, formal wear), personnel (infants, children, men, women), and ancillary variables (stores, brand names, fashion designers, shoes, accessories) that would be involved, an exhaustive study of expressive dressing would be more complex and extensive than the most sophisticated and complete ethnography now in existence. But the kind of expressive ethnography envisioned here is possible now, for there is already a great deal of primary data available in studies of popular culture, the fashion world, the sports world, the press, and so on. The study of expressive culture offers endless possibilities for combining some of the traditional forms and methods of ethnography with the most recent advances in formal methodology and theory. Experts on popular culture—journalists, market researchers, authorities on etiquette, fashion critics, even counselors to the lovelorn—know a great deal about the expressive culture and the expressive underpinnings of contemporary American and European societies. It should be the objective of sociologists, anthropologists, and other social scientists to build upon this knowledge in the effort to formulate a theory of expressive culture and behavior. If people of many persuasions are willing to die for expressive commitments, it behooves us to try to understand the many political, religious, and economic aberrations of the twentieth century. Roberts and his collaborators have succeeded in conceptualizing restricted, well-bounded expressive domains such as a pantheon of gods (Roberts, Chiao, and Pandey 1975), sports (Roberts and Chick 1979; Roberts and Natrass 1980), and music (Ridgeway and Roberts 1976). In the remainder of this section, an effort will be made to conceptualize the expressive domains of a single community, region, or ethnic group, within the empirical framework of this monograph. Most competent ethnographers with extensive experience in a given social setting could readily determine the domains of its expressive ar386

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ray. A fairly detailed description of the expressive array of rural Tlaxcalan culture is available from my own research, and it would be relatively easy to complete it. On the other hand, it is quite possible to establish an expressive array without significant prior experience, by approaching the study of the expressive ethnography and the expressive array simultaneously. This is what Roberts and I have done in a study of the Mexican aristocracy in Mexico City. The expressive array of the Mexican aristocracy includes more than 230 domains, many of which can be decomposed into subdomains. The array includes domains in all the usual ethnographic categories (kinship, religion, the life cycle, political life, economy and material culture, games and play, and so on) with different degrees of intensity and saliency. It contains many domains shared with plutocrats in what might be called the international set in Mexico City, and with the upper-middle class. There are also many expressive domains that aristocrats share with all classes in the Mexican stratification system. In fact, aristocrats and the lowest sectors of the stratification system (folk and Indian peoples) have retained several expressive traits that have essentially disappeared among the groups between these two extremes. Among these traits are a pronounced concern with genealogies and with keeping kinship ties neatly organized, a strong ritualistic and ceremonial bent, and an identification with the land as a symbol of belonging. This is not surprising, for aristocrats and Indians are unquestionably the most traditional sectors of Mexican society, and they are also the classes that have changed the least, except in economic respects, during the past three generations. Aristocrats and Indians know exactly who they are, and they have a high awareness of the psychosocial elements of class membership; all other sectors in the Mexican stratification system seem to be in a state of turmoil, as the system appears to be moving toward a new class structure. As this example indicates, no expressive array is entirely exclusive; rather, it is the complex of exclusive domains that distinguishes the expressive array as a whole. Not even this complex, however, is entirely exclusive. The Mexican aristocracy shares many elements with other European aristocracies. The nucleus of expressive domains is in the household, the near worship of the past, the preservation of certain patterns of etiquette and personal behavior, an intense concern with class membership, and a number of socioreligious practices. Something very similar obtains in rural Tlaxcalan and Araucanian societies, and it is likely that similar exclusive nuclei exist for most classes, ethnic groups, and perhaps even subcultures, at least within the orbit of influence of Western culture. 387

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In summary, the expressive array of social class, subculture, culture, or perhaps an entire culture area is the totality of expressive domains and their subdivisions configurated in terms of inclusive and exclusive categories and with reference to the three basic kinds of environments where expression is realized. The breakdown of inclusive and exclusive domains generally identifies the environments of greatest expressive realization and of most universal incidence in the social unit under consideration, for it is the 20 percent or so of domains of the global array that distinguishes the expressive behavior of the group. The specification of environments where expression is realized describes the range of domains that the social group under consideration shares with other social classes, subcultures, or cultures, depending on the scale of the global array. At the same time, the breakdown of environments where expression is realized makes it possible to gauge the incidence and intensity of expressive behavior across the entire array. It goes without saying that expressive arrays can be scaled down to suit any degree of analytical precision, so that an expressive domain may in its own right become an expressive array. T H E CULT OF THE DEAD AS AN EXPRESSIVE DOMAIN

The cult of the dead is the most significant and extensive domain of the expressive array of rural Tlaxcala. Exclusively, it is centered on religious and social environments, but inclusively it contains many more domains, which rural Tlaxcalans share in different degrees with most other sectors of Mexican society and indeed with folk peoples in most countries in Latin America and even Catholic peoples everywhere. The inclusive array of rural Tlaxcalans includes social dancing, listening to the radio, going to the movies, watching television, traveling (especially to famous sanctuaries), cooking and dressing for ceremonial occasions, and so on. The exclusive array is primarily realized in religious and social environments. Its principal domains are mayordomia sponsorship; participating in the ayuntamiento reliogoso; choosing saints and advocations of Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary for worship and propitiation; decorating the household altar and the local church; ceremonial feast giving; participating in such rituals as pedimentos, recibimientos, processions; sacralizing social exchanges and ritualizing socioeconomic exchanges; celebrating events of the life cycle, especially weddings, baptisms, and deaths; ceremonial cooking; choosing ritual kinsmen; and celebrating carnival. These are mostly domains of the second and third types—i.e., either they are sometimes instrumental but often en388

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dowed with expressive coloration or they are primarily instrumental but sometimes carry expressive meaning. The nucleus of this array is shared by most Indian and strongly folk communities of the Mesoamerican culture area—a conclusion supported by the evidence of Mesoamerican ethnography and my own knowledge of the Nahuatlspeaking peoples of the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley, the Sierra de Puebla, the Cordoba-Orizaba area, and the Valley of Mexico. Furthermore, the exclusive expressive nucleus of rural Tlaxcalans is analogously and homologously equivalent to the exclusive expressive nucleus of the Mexican aristocracy, and the inclusive expressive array of rural Tlaxcala, as a subculture of Mesoamerican Indian culture, more accurately reflects a global expressive array than the inclusive array of the Mexican aristocracy, as a subclass of Western European aristocracy. The most significant and extensive domain of this expressive array is the cult of the dead, which is sufficiently elaborate and complex to be analyzed as an array in its own right, composed of several domains. Two of these domains, the household ofrenda and the decoration of the graves, are quite self-contained both in execution and in ritual and ceremonial structure. The expressive analysis of these two domains was conducted systematically and comprehensively in chapters 6-8. At this point, it may be helpful to break down the cult of the dead into the types of environments in which it is realized and the incidence of its elements. Thus, the first of the two numbers in parentheses preceding each element or set of elements in the list below indicates type of environment—primarily expressive (i), sometimes expressive and sometimes instrumental (z), or primarily instrumental (3)—and the second number indicates incidence, from low (1) to high (3). The units of the classification are households, and the time period of reference is i960, the ethnographic present of this monograph. (I) Offerings to the dead in the household ofrenda and the sacred precinct: (1,3) Cooking, baking, and preparing foodstuffs; buying and selecting fruits, flowers, and liquors. (1,2) Choosing clothing and utilitarian implements; buying and making decorations; buying, choosing, and blessing the pictures, images, and statues of saints, Virgins, Christs, and crosses. (1,1) Selecting innovative offerings and decorations. (II) Configuration, decoration, and display of the household ofrenda: (1,3) Arranging the offerings according to traditional patterns; constructing a classical-traditional, baroque-traditional, or elaborate-transitional ofrenda. (1,2) Decorating the ofrenda with vegetables and manufactured adornments; decorating the altar, retable, and sacred precinct of the ofrenda. (1,1) Making innovations in patterns of 389

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display; combining different offerings and patterns for symbolic effects; showing the ofrenda to visitors and friends. (III) Decorations of the graves: (1,3) Decorating graves with flowers, natural adornments, and manufactured products. (1,2) Generating community pride by the careful and elaborate decoration of the graves. (1,1) Designing patterns of display for simple and elaborate graves; making innovations in patterns of execution and display; combining different patterns of execution for symbolic effect; displaying the decorated graves to visitors. (IV) Activities preliminary to the Todos Santos celebration: (2.,2) Traveling to the other communities of the valley for the Todos Santos shopping; letting kinsmen in the city know that they are expected for Todos Santos. (2,1) Growing flowers for the household ofrenda and the graves; buying fruits, vegetables, adornments, and other items for decorating the ofrenda and the graves; buying or making pan de muertos and other baked goods, preserves, and other foodstuffs for the household ofrenda. (V) Celebration of the Todos Santos cycle: (1,3) Participating in La Despedida; intensifying social relationships; dismantling the household ofrenda and disposing of specific offerings. (1,2) Participating in La Llorada; sacralizing the Todos Santos cycle. (2,1) Decorating and cleaning the cemetery. (VI) Worship and propitiation of dead souls during the year: (1,2) Traveling to set up crosses where people have died on the highway as the result of accidents; undertaking pilgrimages as the result of violent deaths; undertaking limpias as the result of having been close to dead people or having participated in the burial of infants sucked by the tlahuelpuchi; consulting the tezitlazc in connection with certain types of death; honoring and celebrating the dead on the four main occasions; devotions for particular kinds of dead souls (in heaven or purgatory); choosing the soul of a particular dead kinsman as a special protector. (1.1) Climbing La Malintzi in order to intercede on behalf of dead souls. (2,2) Sponsoring mayordomias concerned with the cult of the dead. (2,1) Participating in the politics involved in the nomination of the officials of the mayordomias of the cult of the dead. (VII) Social components and interaction of personnel: (1,3) Exchanging personal ofrendas with kinsmen, compadres, and friends on Todos Santos and several other occasions during the year; visiting kinsmen, compadres, and friends on Todos Santos. (1,1) Inviting kinsmen, compadres, and friends to the functions involved in death and burial. (2.2) Choosing padrinos for setting up crosses connected with the var390

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ious kinds of deaths; choosing compadres for the various kinds of sponsorships involving death. (VIII) Worship of supernaturals: (1,2) Worshipping particular Virgins and manifestations of Jesus Christ as special protectors of dead souls. (1,1) Communicating with the higher supernaturals by means of propitiating particular dead souls; cultivating the good will of La Malintzi for the protection of crops through the worship of the souls of dead infants and children; cultivating the good will of tezitlazcs as ritual and ceremonial allies. Although these are the most important domains in the expressive array of the cult of the dead in rural Tlaxcala, a complete listing would probably include twice as many, and more if one were to include those that are idiosyncratic or are found only in specific communities. Moreover, most domains could be further decomposed into specific forms of expression. When it is realized, in addition, that the cult of the dead is only one of the expressive domains of rural Tlaxcala, it becomes abundantly clear that a thorough account of the region's expressive culture would constitute an enormous task. Besides the question of the proportion of instrumental and expressive realization in a domain, there is also the question of recruitment, that is, how actors are initiated in the realization of expression in a domain. It is likely that recruitment is almost always an expressive activity in its own right. In other words, what motivates a person to pursue a course of action or a lifelong career (even one that is overtly instrumental) is almost always expressive. It is probably this feature of expression that is most elusive and about which we know the least. A TENTATIVE CLASSIFICATION OF EXPRESSIVE BEHAVIOR

There are probably many different kinds of expressive behavior, but so far it has been possible to distinguish only three, which may be called the "natural" (or "inherent"), the "conflict," and the "terminal" types. Some of their characteristics and implications will be explored. Natural expression is a universal attribute of sociocultural systems, a manifestation of the psychic unity of mankind. The concept is a reflection of the fact that, for whatever psychological reasons, the social life of humans inevitably contains nonutilitarian elements that shape the discharge of the sociocultural structure. Although expression obeys primarily psychological motivation, it is realized within concrete sociocultural settings, and its explanation therefore involves the confluence of psychological and sociological variables. It is the latter that are of primary interest here. 391

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The notion that utilitarian, material causes constitute a necessary and sufficient explanation of social behavior is seriously inadequate. For example, it does not account for the fact that people are willing to die for religious, ideological, and other commitments that are clearly expressive. A more useful characterization of the relationship between structure and expression is that the former constitutes the necessary conditions while the latter embodies the sufficient conditions for the explanation of social behavior. Thus, the decisions and actions of a clan chief in a primitive society, or of the leader of a modern industrialized society, are determined or conditioned not only by the social structure of the group or by his ideological position but also by his expressive involvement and style, much as an artist's are. As already noted, the domains of art, games, and play are the most universal loci or environments of natural expression. However, although any sociocultural domain may be a locus of expression, each culture tends to concentrate expression in some environments rather than in others, and these "dense" loci must be central to an expressive analysis. For rural Tlaxcalans, the dense loci are certain social and religious units and institutions; for Mexican aristocrats, the dense loci are the household, personal demeanor, and group history. If the differential density of loci is the distinctive sociocultural manifestation of expressive behavior, idiosyncratic expression is the clearest manifestation of the psychological underpinnings of expressive behavior. Idiosyncratic expression means here expression by atypical (and therefore few) members of the group, whether in common or uncommon domains. Since the explanation of expression must ultimately rest on psychological variables, idiosyncratic expression is no less important than patterned expression. Consequently, the description of an expressive array must involve the specification not only of the most intensive and extensive domains and subdomains, but also of idiosyncratic domains and subdomains. Since the realization of expression is an integral part of the social structure, any modifications in the latter are exhibited in the former. From this viewpoint, the realization of expression has a significant diachronic component. Although the psychological nature of expression does not change through time, the domains of its realization most certainly do, and from this viewpoint the concept of expression may be highly significant for the conceptualization of change: What is today central to the expressive array of a social group may have been peripheral a generation or two ago, and vice versa. The interplay of central and peripheral expression—that is, of patterned, institutional and idiosyncratic expression—is an important factor in understanding the overall realization of expression. 392

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One of the most difficult problems in dealing with expression is the determination of what is expressive and what is instrumental in the causation of behavior. Many anthropologists, particularly materialists, have chosen to ignore the folk injunction that "man does not live by bread alone" and to determine causation on the basis of instrumental conceptions of the social structure that have never really been operationalized. It is true there is no operational definition of expression, either, but even with the nominal definition of expression that has been presented here, the expressive components of behavior are not epistemologically at a disadvantage with respect to its instrumental components. Assuming the ontological reality of expression, it should be possible to determine the expressive and instrumental composition of inputs in any behavioral outcome. The strategy suggested by this position is that behavior is to be explained in terms of necessary structural causes modified by sufficient expressive inputs. Thus, the first necessity in implementing this strategy is to measure, as best as can be done at this stage, expressive inputs in various behavioral outcomes and to determine how and under what conditions expressive styles are realized in structural domains. The expressive approach is expected to contribute to this hitherto uncharted area of sociopsychological research and to answer such questions as: What are the behavioral and expressive strategies that people and groups employ in the struggle for power and in the acquisition of wealth? What are the psychological profiles of winners and losers in the stratification game? Why is it that societies with the same configuration of political power and wealth have different behavioral and expressive styles? How does the realization of various expressive styles affect invention and innovation? What are the expressive components of religious and political action? Answers to these questions are essential to the proper conceptualization of social action. The concepts of involvement, recruitment, and style are central to the expressive approach. Involvement refers to the differential participation of the actors of a social group in the domains of its expressive array. It establishes the range of expressive variability and determines the expressive core of the group. Style is the sum total of expressive involvements of individuals. The expressive style of a group is its tendency to realize expression in domains that are not shared with other groups. It is the collocation of individual and collective styles that determines intragroup expressive variability and cross-cultural expressive distribution. Recruitment refers to the conditions that channel expression into socioculturally preferred domains. The universal proclivities of expression may be idiosyncratically realized in innumerable ways, 393

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but the social system exerts pressure in favor of domains that are at the core of its institutional framework or that represent its expressive style. Conflict expression entails special kinds of behavior that are tied to changes in the social structure of a group of the kind often associated collectively with revolutions and individually with changes of socioeconomic standing. This type of expression—the result not only of Roberts's "antecedent psychological states" but also of specific structural antecedents—is a good example of the importance of determining why some members of a social group are involved in certain patterns of expressive behavior while others are not, since it is generally the case that those domains that claim no one's involvement in time disappear from the expressive array. It was in order to deal with this kind of expression that Roberts and Sutton-Smith (1962) developed a "conflict-enculturation theory of model involvement." This theory postulates that conflict among individuals and groups is likely to lead to involvement in a model (expressive style) that represents the area of conflict to a greater or lesser degree, and that the greater the conflict, the less representative or realistic the model has to be to provide assuagement of the conflict-induced involvement. The theory also maintains that actions by actors within the "model-world" provide training—that is, enculturation—which in turn may or may not affect performance or activity in the "real world." Roberts has examined conflict expression in the light of his theory and in the context of several kinds of games, riddles, music, folk tales, and other domains, and further applications can now be made. The sponsorship of mayordomias and the competition for positions in the ayuntamiento religioso in rural Tlaxcala had traditionally (until about i960) been structural, largely instrumental activities of religious service to the community, generating good will with the supernatural, though also to some extent gaining prestige for the individuals concerned. These two activities have always, however, involved a significant measure of expression as well, in the forms of style, a show of power, and social gratification. For the majority of the population, this balance between instrumental and expressive behavior has remained largely the same down to the present day. Not so for the local elites. Most rural Tlaxcalan communities now have such elites, which usually constitute between 10 and 15 percent of their population. These elites began to coalesce shortly after the Second World War, as a result of the capital that certain families were able to accumulate, mainly through the labor migration of some of their members, especially to the United States. Beginning in the middle 1960s and increasingly since then, these elites were transformed into an incipient "upper class," characterized 394

THE EXPRESSIVE APPROACH

by a high frequency of endogamous marriages, distinctive patterns of consumption, and a rather strong consciousness of kind (see Nutini and Bell 1980:2.75-179). The members of these elites have participated at a relatively high rate in the mayordomia system and the ayuntamiento religioso. Elite informants express the belief that these activities are not only a waste of time and effort but are even inimical to their "capitalist" interests. The only explanation for their high rate of involvement is that mayordomia sponsorship and the holding of office in the ayuntamiento religioso have become predominantly expressive activities, aimed at assuaging their insecurity in what are still largely egalitarian communities—a confirmation of Roberts's theory of expressive involvement. The acculturated household ofrenda set up by most elite nonresidential extended families can be interpreted in the same way. Another application can be seen in the history of traditional Western European aristocracies (including their variants in Latin America). For more than a century, these groups have been in a process of disintegration. As the result of the loss first of political power, then of wealth and economic power, and more recently of social prestige and their position as role models for the rising plutocracies, they have seen their expressive arrays undergo considerable change. Expressive involvements that were once modest and peripheral have become central—for example, storytelling about the glories of the past among Chilean aristocrats, and the petites histoires of French and Italian aristocracies. As in the case of the elites in rural Tlaxcala, these changes appear to be the expressive outcome of the loss of status. These examples make it clear that expression must be an important element in any theory of stratification. When a central institution, or a traditional activity of long standing, stands on the threshold of rapid change, the actors in the system, seeming to anticipate the eventual result, may exaggerate the customary structural discharge, which betrays a much more expressive than instrumental component, and this may be called terminal expression. It is probably the collective manifestation of an apparently universal human emotion upon realizing that an instrument or object that has served one well for a long period of time is about to disappear. It is analogous to a farewell to the dead at graveside, or the tribute rendered to a faithful employee upon retirement, when people are eulogized even for things they did not do. It is an aspect of what was referred to before as "the calm before the storm," in connection with the discussion of the rise in the complexity and elaborateness of the household ofrenda just when it was about to begin its rapid decline (see chapter 7). In 1983, an informant from one of the three most conservative communities in ru395

CHAPTER 13

ral TIaxcala articulated the notion of terminal expression in these words: "Hace ya como veinticinco anos que la gente no hace su ofrenda a los muertos con ese cuidado y cantidad de cosas que era una belleza contemplar. Parece como que hubieramos tenido el presentimiento de que todo cambiaria y nos esforzabamos en honrar a los muertos con mas ahinco. Ya ve Ud. como est&n las cosas ahora: ni la sombra de Io que fueron." (About twenty-five years have passed since people set up their ofrendas to the dead with that care and quantity of offerings that was a sight to behold. It seems as if we had had the premonition that everything would change and we exerted ourselves more earnestly to honor the dead. You are aware how things are now: not even the shadow of what they once were.) This is also a good illustration of the interrelationship of structure and expression, with the former constituting the necessary conditions and the latter providing the sufficient motivation in the explanation of behavior and action. The decade of the 1950s was, relatively speaking, a period of economic affluence (see Nutini and Bell 1980:2.46-2.51), which meant that the material means and the instrumental milieu were available for large, elaborate, and expensive ofrendas. But the immediate stimulus must have been expressive, for otherwise there would be no explanation for the expenditure of such large sums of money on an unproductive, "merely symbolic" activity. By the same token, since the expense of setting up a traditional ofrenda today is prohibitive for the great majority of rural Tlaxcalan households, expression must be realized in less costly ways (given the beliefs and ideological constraints that are still effective), whence the gaudy acculturated ofrenda. Terminal expression is apparently a phenomenon that has been reported before. Roberts (personal communication) has noted that several years ago the anthropologist Gottfried Lange described the revival of a peasant folk festival in a village near a German industrial society, and the account, according to Roberts, sounds much like the description of terminal expression as reflected in the ofrenda. Terminal expression thus appears to be important to the conceptualization of change. Perhaps more than most approaches in anthropology, the expressive approach deals with symbols and requires symbolic analysis. Throughout this monograph, in both the syncretic and the expressive analyses, symbols have been identified and used in ways that illustrate specific structural or ideological contexts or that clarify the causes of behavior. In the syncretic analysis, symbols were particularly useful in elucidating the interplay of physical display, ritual execution, and levels of personnel. In the analysis of expressive behavior, symbols were necessary to show how expressive inputs entail behavioral outputs. Thus, the sym396

THE EXPRESSIVE APPROACH

bolism of the cult of the dead demonstrated the expressive component of a domain and the way in which it complemented structural discharge. A theory of expression must come to grips with the problem of how the individual psychological realization of expression entails collective social implications. In the formulation that has been presented here, individual expression is a necessary condition for understanding decision making and motivation, while collective expression is intimately connected to the wider context of social explanation. Whatever the relationship, the neglect of expression on the part of most anthropologists and sociologists—neglect of the deep psychological need to do certain things regardless of their consequences—has deprived them of a valuable explanatory tool.

397

CONCLUSIONS

This monograph has presented a thorough description and analysis of the cult of the dead in rural Tlaxcala in its manifold physical, ritual, ceremonial, behavioral, theological, and teleological manifestations and implications. The cult has been discussed elsewhere, in other contexts and in its relationships to socioreligious systems, but the aim here has been to present it as an integrated domain. A combination of the syncretic, expressive, and symbolic approaches has been used. The theoretical standpoint has emphasized ideological and structural integration and the processes of change implied by the concepts of modernization and secularization. The formation and development of the cult oi the dead has been explained in terms oi a theory oi syncretism with spontaneous and guided components. One of the themes of this study—the expressive approach—has been explored in the preceding chapter. This chapter will take up in greater detail the other two main themes: the relationships among syncretism, modernization, and secularization; and the cult of the dead and the cult of the saints in the wider Mesoamerican perspective.

SYNCRETISM AND SECULARIZATION

Throughout this monograph, the concept of syncretism has been employed in the analysis of the formation and development of the cult of the dead, especially from the Spanish Conquest to the middle of the seventeenth century, and marginally from then until the beginning of the machine age in Tlaxcala in the 1880s; while the concept of secularization has been the tool with which to make intelligible the changes that the institution has undergone during the twentieth century. This section proceeds from those efforts to postulate a tentative limited-range theory of syncretism and to explore what syncretism and diffusion have in common with modernization and secularization. A Theory of Syncretism The most common use of the concept of syncretism in anthropology has been in the study of religion (see Herskovits 1962; Winnick 1975). Actually, however, it can be applied to any sociocultural domain. Syncretism can be defined as a special kind of acculturation, which takes 398

CONCLUSIONS

place when there is direct and intimate interaction (symmetrical syncretism) or political and/or social confrontation (asymmetrical syncretism) between two traditions. The concept occupies a definite place in the study of religious and other changes that occur when there is diffusion of one sort or another, and it has been very useful in understanding the formation and development of the institutions of folk Indian and Mestizo society in Mesoamerica. However, the conception of syncretism that has been used here is both more general and more specific than its common usage in anthropology—more general because it is not confined to religious phenomena, more specific in that it does not take into account the diffusion of religious or other sociocultural traits. In the case of the cult of the dead in rural Tlaxcala, and of Mesoamerican religion in general, diffusion as a full-blown process began with the machine age. Diffusion did take place from urban society to local Indian and Mestizo communities throughout the colonial period and the first half-century after independence, but whatever was diffused did not make much of an impact on local religion or any other sociocultural institution. When the machine age began, the process of syncretism was replaced by that of diffusion. Modernization and secularization are forms of diffusion, or, more precisely, its intermediary and end products of the latter. The best way to understand, and to some extent explain, the structure and ideology of the Catholic-folk-pagan system of rural Tlaxcala a generation ago is from the syncretic perspective. The same is probably also true of other regions of Mesoamerica, given the similarities in the initial confrontation of pre-Hispanic and Spanish Catholic cultures. Comparisons of the configurations of the basic institutions of local communities (what has been called here the "traditional integrative socioreligious core") indicate that the process did not result in uniform syncretic ensembles. There were two distinct forms of the syncretic process that affected differentially the institutions of the integrative socioreligious core. Guided syncretism was primary in the cult of the saints, the ayuntamiento religioso, and to some extent the compadrazgo system, while the cult of the dead, the tutelary mountain owner complex, and to some extent anthropomorphic supernaturalism were structured primarily by spontaneous syncretism. The main characteristics of guided syncretism are a fairly high degree of structural and ideological asymmetry, a comparatively low visibility of the elements of the indigenous culture, and a religious organization which has mainly administrative and sociological importance in the achieved synthesis; while the main characteristics of spontaneous syncretism are a relatively high degree of structural and ideological sym399

CONCLUSIONS

metry, a comparatively high visibility of indigenous elements, and a religious organization with ritual, symbolic, and expressive importance in the achieved synthesis. The details of the conditions under which these syncretic forms were discharged, the external variables which shaped them, and the social and psychological parameters involved are discussed at a number of places in the monograph, especially in the last section of chapter 11. The two forms may now be combined in order to present a comprehensive theoretical overview of syncretism. Not all the domains and institutions of Tlaxcalan culture and society are the result of the two kinds of syncretism. On the contrary, the institutional totality is at least as much the result of acculturation as of syncretism. But the salient institutions of the traditional integrative core are unquestionably syncretic, and so are such disparate domains as land tenure and the ensemble of ritual, festive, and everyday foodstuffs and their preparation. In some respects, however, the degree of syncretism has been minimal. This is the case, for example, with witchcraft and sorcery. The isolation in which rural Tlaxcalan communities developed during most of the syncretic process (while the Franciscan friars were in control of local congregations, which is to say, until the second decade of the seventeenth century) resulted in some constraining guidance for the complex of witchcraft and sorcery in particular, and anthropomorphic supernaturalism in general, which in turn led to a retardation of the syncretic process. Afterward, when the guided syncretic process had achieved a number of mature syntheses, the process became spontaneous. But the fact that anthropomorphic supernaturalism had been marginal to the friars' efforts at conversion and catechization, and the not too visible position of the complex, allowed an unusually large number of pre-Hispanic retentions. When control over the Indians came to an end and the guided syncretic institutions coalesced, the spontaneous process that had shaped witchcraft and sorcery left them in their essentially pre-Hispanic form, a configuration that these complexes have retained until the present. Thus, they were only minimally affected by Spanish beliefs and practices. They are cases in which a number of elements were borrowed from another magico-religious tradition and incorporated into the configuration of a functional system, reinterpreting them to fit its structural and ideological conditions. The process of borrowing takes place without interaction between the institutional arrays of the borrowing and lending sociocultural traditions, and that appears to be the essence of the process of syncretism as the concept is employed by Herskovits and other anthropologists. Although this meaning of syncretism may have a place in the study of magic and religion, it does not seem as useful or as compre400

CONCLUSIONS

hensive as the definition that has been employed in this monograph. The present conception of syncretism is more encompassing; it can be applied to the entire range of sociocultural phenomena. This is especially true for the well-documented episodes that mark the expansion of Western European peoples throughout the world during the past five hundred years. Either of the two main forms of syncretism can operate by itself in achieving a synthesis. The ayuntamiento religioso is an instance of pure guided syncretism, and the cult of the dead one of pure spontaneous syncretism. More commonly, however, the two processes operate jointly. This is certainly the case for the global synthesis in any community or region, and it is also the case for the integrative institutional core of rural Tlaxcala. Usually, guided syncretism comes earlier and is more effective than spontaneous syncretism, but sometimes the contrary is the case or the two processes operate simultaneously and influence each other. In any event, the process are not compartmentalized or self-contained, but rather are intermeshing and have multiple effects. There are, however, certain guidelines in using the concepts, which can best be illustrated by reference to the three main properties of the syncretic processes. First, there is the question of symmetry and asymmetry. On the whole, guided syncretism is more asymmetric than spontaneous syncretism, but this is not always so. The single most important factor that determines the degree of symmetry is the way in which the two cultural traditions or institutional complexes originally come together: whether in the context of interaction by mutual accord, or in the context of some sort of violent confrontation. There are few historical records of syncretism growing out of mutually acceptable interaction. It may have taken place in hunting and gathering, tribal, and perhaps even folk societies, but it seems unlikely as between large-scale, state-organized societies. In any case, when, for whatever reasons, two or more cultural traditions (or institutional complexes) come together and interact in the absence of strong pressures and constraints, the resultant synthesis or syntheses are apt to be symmetrical, structurally and ideologically. Very little is known about symmetrical syncretism, and it is not of major concern here. (It does appear, though, judging from the ethnographic literature, that there have been several instances of symmetrical syncretism in the tropical-forest regions of South America.) On the other hand, the kind of syncretism that emerges from violent or forced confrontation is well known, has been amply recorded, and has been taking place for thousands of years. Its most common contexts are the various forms of imperialism—military, religious, and 401

CONCLUSIONS

economic. The best-documented cases of syncretism come from the later imperial period of Western culture—that is, from the end of the fifteenth century up to the present—and perhaps the best examples come from the Spanish Conquest in the New World. The syncretic approach can be applied to a range of problems not only in the Mesoamerican area but also in the Andean area and other areas of the New World with essentially Indian populations. The asymmetry in these situations arises out of the political, social, economic, or religious dominance of one of the cultural traditions over the other, or parts thereof, which imposes not only institutions and patterns of behavior but also, and perhaps more important, beliefs, values, and ideologies. In the initial confrontation, there are often identifiable agents of syncretism ("sociocultural brokers"), who serve as guides (hence, guided syncretism) in the imposition of a new religion, economic system, or political structure. Asymmetry is usually most evident in the ideological domain, as the dominant cultural tradition is generally most adamant about its values, while at the structural level, there is considerably more blending and amalgamation. The experience of rural Tlaxcala (and of some cases of syncretism elsewhere) indicates that, in the final synthesis, both the ideological and the structural order undergo modifications, but that it is the ideological dominance of one cultural tradition that ultimately determines the degree of asymmetry. Once the syncretic synthesis has been achieved, the syncretic process as defined here ends, for there is no further confrontation between the two traditions. In the case of most of the syncretic institutions in rural Tlaxcala, for example, the changes that took place between the end of the seventeenth century and the beginning of the twentieth were not syncretic, though they might be called "syncretic borrowings" (see below). Second, it should be recognized that a substantial degree of symmetry is possible even in the presence of the domination and control on the part of one cultural tradition over the other. This is the case in what has been called "spontaneous" syncretism. Two conditions determine whether this will occur. One of them is the centrality or marginality of the institution in question in either or both of the confronting traditions. The more central the institution, the more attention those in charge of guiding the syncretic process will pay to controlling the situation and achieving certain goals. If an institution is relatively marginal, less attention will be paid to it, and the syncretic process will proceed under a low degree of enternal control. This was the case, for example, with anthropomorphic supernaturalism in Tlaxcala, the counterpart of which in Spanish Catholic religion was marginal, and those in charge of the conversion and catechization of the Indians per402

CONCLUSIONS

ceived it as marginal in the native culture as well, though that was not necessarily so. In some ways, this is an extreme example, in that witchcraft, sorcery, weathermaking, and nahualism developed almost totally spontaneously, with virtually no input of Spanish elements of witchcraft and sorcery. The second condition affecting the possibility of spontaneous syncretism is the centrality and marginality with respect to the syncretic situation itself: i.e., the concern with an institution or complex on the part of those in charge of the guiding process, or the visibility of the dominated institution to the dominant cultural tradition. For reasons such as lack of personnel or resources, or out of other socioreligious or economic considerations, the guides of the syncretic process may neglect a particular institution, even while syncretism is proceeding in other institutions. Or, though the institution in question may be important in its native setting, it may escape the attention of those in charge of guiding the syncretic process. It is probably true that no syncretic process ever produces a completely symmetrical institution, however voluntary the interaction between the two traditions may be. There are just too many chance contingencies in social development. However, only in spontaneous syncretism is something even approaching symmetry possible. The cult of the dead in rural Tlaxcala is a good example; it received little attention from the Franciscan friars and, being centered in the household, was relatively invisible to the dominant powers, and it thus came as close as possible to being a symmetrical institution. Yet even the cult of the dead exhibits ideological and structural asymmetries. On the other hand, the largely guided syncretic process of development of the ayuntamiento religioso and the cult of the saints led to a much more asymmetric composition (see Nutini and Bell 1980:287-331). If one may generalize from this evidence in rural Tlaxcala, the more guided and controlled is a syncretic process, the larger is the number of visible elements and complexes of the dominant tradition that will enter into the eventual synthesis; the more spontaneous is the process, the larger is the number of elements and complexes of the dominated tradition that will be present in the eventual synthesis. The third main property of the syncretic process is the position that the eventual synthesis comes to have in the society. This is determined in part by the factors that have already been discussed. Guided syncretism tends to produce a synthesis that emphasizes the institutions and domains that are of primary importance to the process of change growing out of the confrontation of the two traditions. The salient domains of a syncretic complex are apt to be those regarded by the personnel of 403

CONCLUSIONS

the dominant tradition as means to important ends (religious conversion, economic exploitation, and so on). This was clearly the case in the guided syncretism that in rural Tlaxcala structured the cult of the saints, the ayuntamiento religioso, the mayordomia system, and to some extent compadrazgo; these were fostered by those in charge of conversion and catechization as useful tools with which to accomplish their goals. A more spontaneous syncretism results in syntheses that are not only less central in the change process but whose ultimate value is primarily ritual, expressive, and symbolic, though they may nevertheless enjoy a degree of socioreligious saliency. The position of the eventual synthesis in the society is also influenced by another set of factors, which have been discussed here and elsewhere (Nutini 1976; Nutini n.d.; Nutini and Bell 1980^87-378; Nutini and Isaac 1974:431-444) but which are too numerous and complex to be discussed at length here. They include the degree or extent of structural and ideological convergences and similarities in the confronting institutions and traditions; cultural fatigue, internal disarray, or other social, economic, or religious conditions in the dominated tradition that make it vulnerable to change; the degree of control on the part of the dominant tradition; the duration and pace of the syncretic process; the configuration of institutions in both the dominant and the dominated traditions; and the nature of the leadership in the change process. The data bearing on these factors are difficult to come by, and so they constitute the most refractory part of a theory of syncretism. Some Possible Applications In principle, the theory of syncretism being set forth here is applicable to any domain of the sociocultural spectrum. However, anthropologists have dealt primarily with syncretism in the religious domain rather than in the economic, political, or material-culture domains (the same is true of my own works on rural Tlaxcala). Consequently, examples of its application to religious phenomena are most readily at hand, and a few may be cited to suggest its potential range. (1) Probably the best documented example is the rise and formation of Christianity out of the confrontation of Hebraic monotheism and Roman polytheism. This involved various degrees of guided syncretism and some spontaneous elements. It is a striking case, because it took place within the context of the confrontation (at times extremely violent) of a folk religion, a variant of Judaism, and an imperial religion, Roman polytheism. When Christians rose to political power in the first half of the fourth century, Christianity began to coalesce as the contin404

CONCLUSIONS

uation of imperial polytheism and the amalgamation of administrative and organizational elements of the two traditions: the bishop of Rome became Pontifex Maximus (the head of the old polytheistic religion), the flamines Dialis, Martialis, and Quirinalis (Roman sacrificial priests) and their acolytes became the deacons and priests, the Roman legal and court systems became the foundations of the church, and so on. This is almost an exact structural and functional equivalent of the rise of the ayuntamiento religioso in rural Tlaxcala as the administrative and organizational foundation of the local congregation. With the further development of Christianity as an imperial religion, other syncretic entities appeared—for example, the concepts of martyr and saint as a blend of the monotheistic conception of God and the polytheistic multiplicity of gods, which, at least at the folk level, coalesced as an essentially monolatrous system. This phenomenon, too, was found in Tlaxcala. Thus, the syncretic approach promises to illuminate this major area of Western history. (2) The theological foundations of Christianity are a good example of spontaneous syncretism with elements of guidance. Here the interaction was between Hebrew sacred history and Greek philosophy, especially that of Plato and Neoplatonism. This interaction was at times a confrontation, again an occasionally violent one (as in the heresies between the fourth and seventh centuries), but on the whole it was more of a dialogue than an imposition. It was the combination of elements from these two intellectual traditions, most notably by Saint Augustine, that gave rise to Christian theology as a distinct entity of its own. Another synthesis appears to have taken place more than five centuries later, in the interaction of the then achieved Christian theology and another variety of Greek philosophy, Aristotelianism. This is best exemplified in the work of Saint Thomas Aquinas, which apparently represented a reaction to the Platonic underpinnings of Christianity, seen as no longer attuned to the spirit of the times, when Christian society was emerging from the Dark Ages and was about to embark on another imperial phase. The administrative implications and organizational foundations of Aristotle's philosophy seemed to be an intellectual and pragmatic tool more appropriate to the new situation. This was an instance of what might be called "intellectual syncretism," for which there has been no counterpart in Tlaxcala. (3) The spread of Christianity to northern and eastern Europe offers many examples of basically spontaneous syncretism. Christianity was imposed upon or introduced to those areas of Europe as a fairly mature religious system, and it seems reasonable to say that, under the guidance of Christianity, a whole series of spontaneous syncretic develop405

CONCLUSIONS

ments took place in the interaction of magical and peripheral religious elements of northern Indo-European polytheistic origin with their counterparts in southern European Christianity. Halloween, practices and complexes associated with the cult of the dead and with witchcraft and sorcery, fertility rites, and so on, still found vestigially in most countries of northern Europe, are specific examples, and they are the structural and functional equivalents of several aspects of the cult of the dead in rural Tlaxcala. (4) India has been a fertile ground for most kinds of syncretism. Since its invasion by Indo-European peoples nearly four millennia ago, and especially after Hinduism and the caste system reached their zenith in the fifth and sixth centuries B.C., this culture area has witnessed many syncretic transformations and has also been an exporter of religious traditions that were involved in syncretic transformations elsewhere. The rise and spread of Hinduism in the subcontinent and its confrontation and interaction with local pagan traditions has undoubtedly produced many folk religions whose basic configuration is syncretic. India's role as a breeding ground of syncretism continued with the spread of Buddhism to China and the spread of Islam throughout the subcontinent. (5) Finally, Sikhism is a syncretic synthesis of Hinduism and Mohammedanism. It appears to have been a spontaneous outgrowth of the interaction of these two great religious traditions. Although its development was not free of struggle against its parent traditions, its syncretic blend did not necessarily involve the forceful imposition of one of the contending ideologies. Many more examples of syncretism could be given from the cargo cults of Melanesia and the messianic cults of North America and similar developments in Africa. Syncretism is probably the single most important process in the inception and development of magic and religious systems. So far, it has been possible to implement (and not yet to operationalize) only a limited-range theory of guided and spontaneous syncretism and to apply it to situations of conquest or violent confrontation between a politically, economically, socially, and religiously dominant cultural tradition and a dominated one. This has been done in the setting of rural Tlaxcala, but it can presumably be extended to other regions of Mesoamerica and of the New World that came under the domination of Spain, and it has the potential to be made applicable to a much wider variety of situations of conquest and colonization. As the theory has been formulated to this point, guided and spontaneous syncretism are interrelated and ultimately constitute a single process, the differential expressions 406

CONCLUSIONS

of the varying degrees of the power of a dominant over a dominated tradition. Guided syncretism may be regarded as a necessary condition for the emergence of a final synthesis, through a process of selective amalgamation of elements from the cultural traditions in confrontation; while spontaneous syncretism is a subsidiary development, which takes place in institutions or domains that are marginally situated, both with respect to a given socioreligious ensemble and in relation to the syncretic matrix itself, and whose syntheses usually coalesce after that of the main guided thrust. As special cases of acculturation and diffusion, syncretism offers many possibilities for explaining the formation and development of numerous ensembles of sociocultural phenomena. Syncretism and Diffusion, Modernization and Secularization Acculturation and diffusion are probably the two most important kinds of externally caused sociocultural change with which anthropologists have traditionally dealt. Properly redefined, these concepts continue to be useful today in studying the transformations that, often dramatically, are affecting many culture areas. In this monograph, the concept of syncretism, as a special kind of acculturation, has been used in explaining the formation and transformation of the cult of the dead up to the beginning of the machine age in Tlaxcala, while the concepts of modernization and secularization, as integral aspects of diffusion, have been used in explaining what happened to the institution, and by extension the socioreligious integrative core of the local community, since the turn of the century. However, it is also the case that syncretism is a kind of diffusion, or at least that it takes place in the context of diffusion. This aspect of syncretism needs to be further explored. As defined here, syncretism involves the confrontation of two sociocultural traditions, a developmental cycle, and a synthesis that is tied to a new institutional array. Nothing of the sort obtains in the case of the syncretism in which an isolated trait or bundle of traits is borrowed from another culture and internalized, homogenized, and transformed in a new environment. The configuration of the borrowing and lending cultural traditions does not play a discernible role (except perhaps in guiding the process of internalization and homogenization), there is no apparent developmental cycle, and the event on the whole is an isolated occurrence, which may or may not have institutional consequences. In other words, this kind of syncretism is a form of diffusion, just as syncretism according to the previous definition is a form of acculturation: the former, "diffusion syncretism," is a process by which individual traits or complexes are borrowed from a cultural tradition and incor407

CONCLUSIONS

porated and reinterpreted in another; the latter, "acculturative syncretism," is a process by which two confronting institutional arrays or cultural traditions give birth to a new institution or complex of institutions that partakes in large measures of both traditions. Thus, the cult of the Virgin of Ocotlan is not the same as the acquisition by the Roman god Mars of some of the attributes of the Egyptian god Orus in late Roman republican times, nor is the crystallization of the ayuntamiento religioso in the seventeenth century the same as the acquisition by the flamines Dialis of some of the ritual functions of Zoroastrian priests. In the Tlaxcalan cases, an entire ritual, symbolic, and administrative ensemble arose, which affected a large socioreligious array in an emerging folk religious system; while in the Roman cases, the borrowings affected a limited domain but did not change the general character of the polytheistic religion. The attributes of diffusion syncretism, as contrasted with those of acculturative syncretism, are that the process is usually free, to a large extent spontaneous, and does not involve any significant amount of pressure or domination; it responds to certain social and psychological needs in the borrowing cultural tradition, and it is conditioned by the availability of suitable elements in the lending cultural tradition; and, although it does not culminate in a new synthesis, it may ultimately have enduring effects on the institutional array of the receiving tradition. Conceived in this fashion, diffusion syncretism is a useful complement to acculturative syncretism. As with the latter, it may have several forms and spheres of action. There have been two main instances of diffusion syncretism in rural Tlaxcala. (i) After the final synthesis of the cult of the dead and other institutions in the socioreligious core had been achieved, the institutional ensemble of the local community entered a period of relative equilibrium, which lasted for about two hundred years, until the late nineteenth century. Changes did occur, but they were never serious enough to upset this equilibrium. These are the changes that it is useful to conceptualize as diffusion syncretism—borrowings of individual traits, or occasionally of bundles of traits, from the larger society. In the case of the cult of the dead, these were such traits as new foodstuffs and decorations in the household ofrendas, new arrangements and displays in grave decorations, and new rites and ceremonies in the annual cycle, all of them reinterpreted and absorbed without any significant change in the overall structural-ideological integration of the institution. The fact that these borrowings were reinterpreted and absorbed is what qualifies them as syncretic and not simply as the isolated borrowings that characterize simple diffusion. 408

CONCLUSIONS

(z) The other instance of diffusion syncretism in rural Tlaxcala occurred in the context of modernization and secularization, and it consisted of borrowings by the local community from the urban, national culture, beginning in the last two decades of the twentieth century. The number of borrowings in this instance was so large that, in the end, it produced the same kind of fundamental transformation, albeit in lopsided form, as occurs in acculturative syncretism. Diffusion syncretism is closely related to the combined process of modernization and secularization that was described in chapter i z . In diffusion syncretism, as in modernization, traits are borrowed, reinterpreted, and absorbed without producing any noticeable transformation in the recipient tradition, unless—as in secularization—the borrowings are sufficiently numerous and sustained that they do ultimately wreak such a transformation. From this viewpoint, diffusion syncretism is characterized by the sequential efficacy of modernization and secularization. It could even be said that the sequence of modernization and secularization constitutes the developmental cycle of diffusion syncretism, analogous to that of acculturative syncretism. The difference between diffusion syncretism and the combined action of modernization and secularization is that in the former not only elements of economic value and material culture are borrowed but also elements of socioreligious value, which have more direct effects on the institutional arrangement of the community. But the result is the same: the rise of a new ideology that drastically alters the established ideological-structural integration, or what has been called here the traditional integrative core of the community. Thus, although diffusion syncretism, as the combined effect of modernization and secularization, cannot be construed as guided or spontaneous syncretism, both kinds of syncretism lead to the reorganization of the sociocultural system. One reason for viewing the processes of modernization and secularization in the light of syncretism is that it highlights the ideological struggle that goes on prior to the formation of a new integration. Just as the pre-Hispanic and Spanish Catholic ideologies of the cult of the dead confronted each other, so also the traditional ideology of the cult of the dead later confronted a secular ideology, which was itself the result of both direct influences from the outside world and the reinterpretation of borrowed elements. Although the ideological and structural confrontation and interaction of guided and spontaneous syncretism, on the one hand, and diffusion syncretism, on the other, in the conditions of modernization and secularization, are not homologous, they do produce analagous results. The main difference between these two kinds of syncretism is that in the contemporary setting, one of the ide409

CONCLUSIONS

ologies so thoroughly dominates the other that the resultant integration usually means the demise of an institution, which at best retains vestigial elements of the older tradition. But the interplay of ideological and structural elements, and the feedback between dominant and dominated traditions, are the same, for in modernization and secularization, the internal (traditional) and external (secular) interaction is the functional equivalent of the confronting traditions. In other words, the analogous features that acculturative syncretism and diffusion syncretism have in common outweigh their homologous differences, and they can be regarded as an integrated approach to the conceptualization of socioreligious change. To conclude, the combined theory of guided and spontaneous syncretism, complemented by diffusion syncretism defined as a concomitant aspect of modernization and secularization, can account for the formation, development, and decline of the cult of the dead in rural Tlaxcala from the time of the Spanish Conquest to the present day. It is equally applicable to the integrative socioreligious core of the local community. Encompassing the main internal and external domains (acculturation, diffusion, syncretism, modernization, and secularization) employed in the conceptualization of change, the theory can be operationalized and extended to account for the formation and transformation of many folk societies in what was once the Spanish colonial empire in the New World and perhaps of folk societies elsewhere as they are about to become part of nation states.

TOWARD AN IMPROVED UNDERSTANDING OF MESOAMERICAN FOLK RELIGION

This monograph was originally planned as a study of the religious system of rural Tlaxcala, centered—in the traditional fashion of Mesoamerican ethnography—in the mayordomia system and the ayuntamiento religioso. However, it soon became clear that such a study would merely be another description of a local religious system, while, on the other hand, the cult of the dead would be an excellent vehicle for a discussion of aspects of Mesoamerican religion that have not been treated in the ethnographical literature. This final section, then, will emphasize the contributions of the monograph to an understanding of several aspects of the folk Catholicism of Mesoamerica as practiced by Indians and in many Mestizo communities as well. The subject is an important one, because many other regions of this culture area are undergoing transformations similar to those that rural Tlaxcala has ex410

CONCLUSIONS

perienced, and the religious systems of those regions are essentially similar to that of rural Tlaxcala. Local Religion and Folk Catholicism Among the goals of this monograph has been the elucidation of four characteristics of the cult of the dead and related elements of the socioreligious system of rural Tlaxcala: (i) its belief system and the theology that underlies it; (2) the importance of its private as against its public manifestations; (3) the pluralistic (though primarily Catholic) discharge of a monistic (primarily pre-Hispanic) ideology; and (4) the monolatrous nature of folk Catholicism and its teleological implications. Each of these characteristics has implications for the understanding of Mesoamerican folk religion. Most descriptions of local folk religions in Mesoamerica are centered on the mayordomia system and the ayuntamiento religioso. The "cargo system," as the administrative and ritual-ceremonial complex is usually called, is described and analyzed in terms of its personnel and the functions and activities it discharges. Occasionally, the content and form of the supernatural are discussed, and the saints, the manifestations of Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary, and other sacred personages are placed in a folk context that emphasizes departures from orthodox Catholicism. In some cases, the description of the folk complex is supplemented with descriptions of pagan, pre-Hispanic supernaturals and practices, in which it is not always easy to determine how the pagan and the Catholic are joined in the same system. This view of local religion constitutes an essentially static, mechanical conception of the supernatural life of folk Indian and Mestizo communities. It leaves many questions unanswered, including the ways in which the functions and discharge of religion are related to the social structure of the community. The most serious drawbacks of this approach are that it is incomplete and that it leaves the structural description of local religion improperly anchored. In other words, the ideology of folk religion—its belief system, theology, and teleology—is generally absent or is described only sketchily, with the result that the global ensemble is seen as a disparate conglomerate of elements, supernaturals, and actors tenuously tied together by the threads of a folk version of Catholic beliefs. The most significant contribution of this monograph, centered on the cult of the dead as a paradigm of the cult of the saints and at the fulcrum of the human-supernatural relationship, is that it analyzes the ideology, belief system, and teleology of local folk religion in an integrated fashion. Only after the human-supernatural covenant, the ulti411

CONCLUSIONS

mate destination of the dead, the relationships among the various kinds of supernaturals, the place of ritualism and ceremonialism, the nature of worship and propitiation, the hierarchy of ideological constraints, and the efficacy of beliefs are properly understood and conceptualized can the cult of the saints, the mayordomia system, the ayuntamiento religioso, and ancillary pagan elements become an integrated entity. In short, only after the ideology, belief system, theology, and teleology of a system are understood and systematically analyzed can the structural discharge of religion become intelligible. Although the private and public aspects of folk religion complement each other, occasionally diverging in unsuspected ways, they are reflections of the same unitary principles and constraints. In this monograph, the private aspects have been emphasized, for two reasons. On the one hand, the private, household-centered discharge of any aspect of ritual and ceremonialism is at the heart of a folk religious system, and it is there that the distinction and interrelation between what is local in origin and what is orthodox Catholic can best be determined. On the other hand, it is also in the private context that the syncretic constitution of the folk religion can most easily be unraveled and the differential efficacy of the underlying ideology and belief system most easily be studied. For the same reasons, this emphasis should prove valuable in the study of religion in other parts of Mesoamerica. In order to assess the syncretic composition of Mesoamerican folk religion and the relationships among its disparate parts, each local system must be considered from the standpoint of its underlying ideology and belief system and their structural discharge. Only thus can the conglomerate of elements and practices be seen as a coherent whole. Exclusive concentration on structural discharge gives the impression that local folk religion is essentially Catholic, and that all non-Catholic, pagan elements belong to a separate system. If this monograph has done nothing else, it has demonstrated that, when local religion is viewed from the standpoint of a clearly laid out ideology and belief system, the Catholic, folk, and pagan elements fall into an intelligible pattern, one that has been described here as a monistic ideology pluralistically discharged. This strategy facilitated the decomposition of religious elements and practices into their origins and thereby revealed the survival of an ideology and belief system that are primarily pre-Hispanic. This point and the preceding one are related to the monolatrous nature of religion in rural Tlaxcala. (The monolatrous components of local religion are best identified and observed in the interplay of the private and public components of the system.) Both there and elsewhere 412

CONCLUSIONS

in Mesoamerica, the manifestly monotheistic ideology of Christianity is behaviorally affected by the latent polytheistic ideology of pre-Hispanic survivals, and when the structural discharge of this syncretic ideology is realized in the context of the cult of the saints and the cult of the dead, the result is a monolatrous system. The saints and the various kinds of dead souls are regarded not only as intermediaries between man and the Christian God, but also as supernaturals endowed with independent power and as dispensers of rewards and punishments in their own right. When the entire array of pagan supernaturals and personages is taken into consideration, the monolatrous component of the Catholic-folk-pagan complex is significantly enhanced. In the fluid, sometimes obscure pantheon, the Christian God is at the apex of a pyramid in which both Catholic and pagan supernaturals and personages occupy ranks that are not fixed but rather depend on the context, place, and occasion in which they are being worshipped, propitiated, or entreated. Even if, theologically and doctrinally, Indian and Mestizo peoples do conceive of the Christian God in strictly monotheistic terms and all other supernaturals, Catholic and pagan, as intermediaries and subject to his power, it is the monolatrous gestalt that structures the actual discharge of religious rites, ceremonies, and activities. This duality can be traced in part to the ideological ambivalence of local religions. In conclusion, these are the main standpoints that I consider indispensable for a proper understanding of Mesoamerican Indian and, to a large extent, Mestizo religion. As described and analyzed in this monograph, I regard them as correctives designed to enhance the understanding of local religion in its manifold manifestations, as stemming from structural (administrative organization of personnel and the discharge of rites, functions, and activities) and ideological (theological, teleological, and operational beliefs) considerations. The conception presented in this monograph of how religion should be studied intrinsically makes more sense than what has been done so far, but it also redounds in a better fit between the discharge of religion itself and that of the global, local sociocultural system. That is, religion, integrally discharged, is seen as one of the main themes molding the ideological and practical life of the community. From Local Religion to National Urban Catholicism There are three other attributes of rural Tlaxcalan religion that may be extended to the analysis of Mesoamerican religion in general: the absence of moral injunctions and constraints; the pragmatic but sacred covenant that underlies the relationship of the collectivity with the 413

CONCLUSIONS

supernatural; and the efficacy of this magico-religious covenant in the discharge of several domains of the social structure. Given the changes that the religious systems of most regions of Mesoamerica have been undergoing during the past generation and that will surely continue if not accelerate, a number of questions about their future character are bound to arise. Will religious ideology become more "moral" and Christian ethics come to regulate a wider range of behavior in the lives of the people? Will the demise of the sacred covenant affect the local discharge of religion and the conduct of social relations? Will local religion become more monotheistic, and if so, how will ritual and ceremonial discharge be affected? The "Chistianization" of local religion has been going on in rural Tlaxcala with particular rapidity during the past twenty years, primarily through the increasing influence of the visiting or resident priest and of the Catholic hierarchy in general. A contributing factor, one that will undoubtedly increase greatly in importance, is the involvement of the young and the middle-aged in national Catholic organizations that are only tangentially related to the mayordomia system and the ayuntamiento religioso. Christianization means the increased importance of Christian ethics in the conduct of everyday life and, conversely, the disappearance of the regulations and constraints of the social structure in operation as the traditional locus of morality and social control. Such practices as polygyny, concubinage, traditional forms of marriage (the pedimento, elopement, living in free union), the required degree of exogamy, and ritual kinship sponsorship, which had been governed by the injunctions of kinship and compadrazgo until a generation ago (Nutini 1976), will now be discharged according to the "thou shalts" and "thou shalt nots" of more or less orthodox Catholicism. On the other hand, strict Catholic morality is very unlikely to replace completely the strong hold that the social structure in action has on the people. The local community will probably function, then, in a moral no man's land, somewhere between traditional social ethics and orthodox Catholic ethics. Indeed, this is the moral environment in which the urban lower classes, not only in the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley but perhaps in most urban areas of central Mexico, already function, and there is every reason to believe that it will spread to the rural areas as well. Unlike the moral system, the covenant regulating the relationship between the collectivity and the supernatural has begun to depart from its traditional form only during the past decade or so. However, radical changes are in store for the near future. Fewer and fewer people, particularly among the young and the middle-aged, believe that the costs of ritual and ceremonial sponsorships and the expenditures of time and 414

CONCLUSIONS

money to obtain supernatural protection are worthwhile. In most communities, the mayordomias and the ayuntamiento religioso are still in place, and the demands of the kinship and compadrazgo systems are more or less being complied with. But the cumulative effect of individual refusals to spend the time, money, and effort to perform the activities entailed by the covenant is beginning to be felt. Meanwhile, as already suggested, the ideology of Catholicism, which holds that the propitiation of God and the saints is best achieved by attending mass, taking communion, going to confession, and observing the church's holy days, is gaining wider adherence. The pragmatic, utilitarian outlook inherent in the traditional covenant is being replaced by a system, the Catholic, which is much less costly to implement. The mayordomias, the ayuntamiento religioso, and other ritual sponsorships may continue as terminal forms of expression for a while, but a point will be reached when the sacred covenant will cease to exist. Finally, for reasons already mentioned, as well as for such additional reasons as the contact of labor migrants with the outside world and the diffusion of religious information and beliefs from urban centers, the traditional monolatry of religion in rural Tlaxcala has been moving in the direction of monotheism for more than twenty-five years. It has been especially noticeable in the more frequent verbalization of the orthodox Catholic notion that the saints are only intermediaries and that their power emanates from God, and in an increasing reluctance to talk about La Malintzi, El Cuatlapanga, and other pagan supernaturals. Nevertheless, to judge from the variations of religious behavior that can be observed in Mexico City, Puebla, and other large cities in central Mexico—and, indeed, elsewhere in the world—there is no reason to doubt that Catholicism in rural Tlaxcala will retain a certain degree of monolatry. Pagan, anthropomorphic supernaturalism may go underground or become latent, but it will probably not disappear. Rather, witchcraft, sorcery, and tutelary supernaturals are apt to survive in simplified form as instruments of last resort, a lingering vestige of monolatry. This has already happened in several communities, and the latent system that has come into being is not essentially different from the magical beliefs and practices that are found in the cities. The attributes discussed in these concluding pages are interrelated, and they constitute in effect a new way of looking at Mesoamerican religion. It is a realistic perspective, well-founded methodologically and located within a traditional ethnological setting, and it can be applied in a variety of contexts. The goal of this monograph was to demonstrate that the joint utilization of the syncretic and expressive approaches is a necessary condi415

CONCLUSIONS

tion for the conceptualization of religion, especially in areas such as Mesoamerica, where the diachronic and synchronic components of sociocultural systems are so closely related. Mesoamerican religion will be properly conceptualized and understood only when this strategy has been employed in at least the five or six major regions of the area.

416

NOTES

Introduction ι. In what was otherwise a positive and friendly review of a previous work (Nutini and Bell 1980), Peter Coy (198Z) charged me with appro­ priating the term "syncretism"—that is, leading the reader to believe that I was the first to use the term in Mesoamerican ethnology. This is not at all the case. In a publication four years earlier (Nutini 1976:304-305), I gave credit and paid due respect to Spicer (1958), Foster (i960), Beals (1950), Carrasco (1952., 1961), and especially Madsen (1957), as having been the most notable Mesoamericanists to have employed the concept of syncretism and as having made significant contributions to specific do­ mains. I did say, however, that no mature theory of syncretism emerges from the writing of these anthropologists and that their work is primarily descriptive. I continue to believe that there is no standardized use of the concept in anthropology and that we are just beginning to realize what it means for the study of religion. z. The foregoing account constitutes but a bare outline of Tlaxcalan culture and society. For a more complex description and analysis of the demography, ethnohistory, and contemporary ethnography of rural Tlaxcala, readers are urged to consult Nutini (1968:23-93; 1984:372-467), Nutini and Isaac (1974:275-372), and Nutini and Bell (1980:197-379). Chapter 1 i. Carrasco suggests that, conceptually, polylatry is a more adequate term than monolatry to describe the present situation. There is merit in his suggestion, but I have retained monolatry on the basis of precedent. The latter term has been used by several anthropologists in criticizing the tendency of diffusionists of Father Schmidt's school to report monotheism among primitive tribes, when the religion at best warrants description as a primus inter pares situation. This is an approximate description of the re­ lationship obtaining between God and the saints in several sectors of Christendom. 2. Several scholars (see Hatch 1978:978-980; James 1963:227-228; Weiser 1956:121-122) maintain that the change of the celebration of the martyrs and saints of the church from May 1 to November 1 was origi­ nally instituted in the bishopric of Rome, from where it quickly diffused to other regions of Christendom. It is said that in about 840, November 1 was selected by Pope Gregory IV so that the great numbers of pilgrims flocking to the city of Rome for the celebration could be fed from the harvest. A more plausible explanation, offered by some scholars (see 417

NOTES Weiser 1956:1x2), is that the change took place in order to substitute a significant Christian feast for several pagan practices, essentially of Celtic and Germanic origin, which fell at that time of the year, during an outburst of ritualism associated with the impending arrival of winter. The history of Christianity from the fourth to the fifteenth centuries is full of examples of such guided syncretism, especially as monotheism spread to northern and eastern Europe between the fifth and eleventh centuries. 3. It appears that the invention, growth, and development of religions cannot escape the phenomenon of syncretism; no religion comes into being out of a supernatural vacuum. Not even such an innovative and transcendentally different conception of the supernatural as Hebrew monotheism could escape its Near Eastern polytheistic roots. Much is known about the syncretic components and developmental stages of the JudeoChristian tradition, but it awaits an enterprising scholar to give a systematic account of this fascinating transformation. Chapter 2 i. Religion is one of the best-known aspects of Mesoamerican culture at the time of the conquest. The mendicant friars left an invaluable record of pre-Hispanic polytheism and the place of religion in Mesoamerican culture (Durdn 1967; Landa 1966; Motolinia 1903, 1969; Sahagun 1956). This legacy has been substantially augmented by much excellent archeological and ethnohistorical scholarship in the twentieth century (Seler 1923; Caso 1945, 1958; Vaillant 1941; Soustelle 1955; Carrasco 1976; Lopez Austin 1973)· 2. Some scholars maintain that the Indo-European, Hindu, Chinese, and Near Eastern polytheistic pantheons had a common origin (Paul Kirchhoff, personal communication). If this could be definitively established, it would suggest that either Mesoamerican polytheism is a striking example of independent invention or that all polytheistic system around the world had a single origin (Kirchhoff 1964b: 16-22). 3. The Mesoamerican calendar, called xihuitl in Nahuatl, stood for a solar year. It was composed of 18 months of 20 days each with five extra days, for a total of 365 days. It was obviously an approximation, complicated by the fact that we still do not know whether or not Mesoamericans knew the concept of the leap year. The situation is further complicated by the fact that, although this calendar was almost universal in Mesoamerica, it did not always begin in the same month or even day of the month. This has resulted in a certain degree of confusion in the interpretation and correlation of dates in the annual cycle of rites and ceremonies. For the purpose of the present discussion this consideration is not entirely relevant, but I do try to pinpoint dates as accurately as possible. 4. The Spanish word carnicerta meant both "slaughter" and "butcher shop" in the sixteenth century (as it does today). Thus, the last part of this quotation is ambiguous. However, in view of the concluding words, 418

NOTES

"como el dia de hoy las hay" (as there are today), "butcher shop" is the more likely translation. 5. The structural and functional similarities of the pre-Hispanic xocotl and the contemporary tree-cross do not need to be belabored. What is extremely interesting is the persistence of ritual forms and contents within the context of Catholicism in Tlaxcala and several other regions of Mesoamerica. During the past twenty-five years, I have recorded hundreds of such survivals in the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley, the Sierra de Puebla, and the Cordoba-Orizaba region. They are found primarily in the domains of beliefs, magic, and religion, but they are also found in the domain of the social structure in its wider context. The composite and quantitative analysis of surviving pre-Hispanic practices, sometimes in fairly pristine form, sometimes heavily influenced by Catholicism, has not been undertaken for Mesoamerica as a whole nor for any of its regions. The closest to this ideal is what has been done for witchcraft and sorcery in rural Tlaxcala by Nutini and Roberts (forthcoming). Such an analysis is essential to a full understanding of the processes of syncretism and acculturation that Indian cultures and societies have been undergoing for 450 years. With respect to the area in question, beliefs and practices that have survived external pressures for more than four centuries are now on the verge of total disappearance; this has become especially clear during the past ten years. 6. Carrasco's reader is urged 1979:52-61) for theological, and myself indebted subject.

work on pre-Hispanic religion is outstanding, and the to consult his publications (1976:235-288; 1977:11-17; a thorough understanding of the social, cosmological, environmental foundations of the cult of the dead. I am to Carrasco for directing me to several sources on this

Chapter 3 i. Up to this point, Serna's only reference to Todos Santos is written in the past tense. Moreover, unlike Ruiz de Alarcon's reference, which is written in the present tense and as his own observation, the context of Serna's description makes it impossible to determine whether it is his own information or not. Nor is it possible to date Serva's statement; it could have referred to any time between the beginning and the middle of the seventeenth century. 2. The evidence for this perhaps mild exploitation of the Indians is in the Tlaxcalan parochial archives cited above, in which the complaints of local Indian officials are recorded. 3. These documents consist of letters between parish priests and the bishop of Tlaxcala-Puebla and directives from the latter to the former. Thirty such letters and ten directives, dated between 1627 and 1713, were found in the local archives of San Pablo Apetatitlan, San Bernardino Con419

NOTES

tla, Santa Ana Chiautempan, San Luis Teolocholco, and San Dionisio Yauhquemehcan. Chapter 4 i. Many an anthropologist in Mesoamerica has accepted as current ethnographic facts accounts offered by literate or semiliterate informants that actually came from published sources or that they had heard at second hand. This is particularly true in the religious and magico-symbolic domains. There is one famous case of an anthropologist, who shall not be named, who took as contemporary reality the survival of a cult of Quetzalcoatl that the local barber had gotten verbatim out of Sahagun. I was fortunate to have been warned about such matters by Professor Pedro Carrasco when I first ventured into the delights and frustrations of fieldwork. z. It is interesting to notice that, in the dozen or so offerings made of some kind of dough, the main ingredient in most is wheat and not corn. Bread and other wheat-dough products never became staple foods in Indian or (to a lesser extent) rural Mestizo society in Mesoamerica, and yet, apparently within one or two generations after the conquest, they became established as ceremonial items. It is not clear how that happened, although it may be true that nonstaple foods have a higher probability of becoming ceremonial items than staple foods. It should also be mentioned that religious authorities in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries were successful in eradicating huauhtli as the main ingredient of tzoalli, the dough that was so important in pre-Hispanic ceremonialism. Huauhtli has survived marginally in the alegria candy still offered to the dead. 3. Other examples of the sexual division of labor are the prerogative of men in the preparation of mole prieto (a dark souplike concoction made of pork, ground corn, sesame, and eight varieties of chili peppers, served at the most important social and religious occasions); the duty of women to handle things that have been in contact with witches and nahuales; and the interdiction against women handling certain ceremonial objects such as the staffs of authority and the high crosses of the fiscales. All that can be said by way of explanation is that most of the practices are probably of pre-Hispanic origin, and that women are regarded as greater risks than men in the performance of ritual and ceremonial acts, and so they are "discriminated against." 4. In rural Tlaxcalan culture, limpias are undertaken on many occasions, but always with the same end in mind: the physical and spiritual or supernatural removal of dirt, illness, or pollution. There are many occasions in the life cycle of rural Tlaxcalans when they find themselves, to one degree or another, in a state that can be described as abnormal, dangerous, or unsettled, and a limpia is necessary to restore them to normality. "Folk illnesses" (those that involve a supernatural or semisupernatural element), are in this category, and so are murders. The limpias required in 420

NOTES these two situations are similar, except that the cleansing bunch for an illness is more elaborate, as it includes several medicinal plants. Symbolically, however, there is one important difference. The cleansing bunch in the case of illness is taken to church and placed in front of the image of the Catholic supernatural to whom the sick person commends himself, whereas this cannot be done with the bunch with which a killer has been cleansed. A killer cannot commend himself to his favorite saint or to the Virgin in atonement for what he has done; only the tezitlazc can do this on his behalf. Moreover, the people usually (if unconsciously) try to keep separate folk-Catholic and pagan rites and ceremonies. And finally, since the cleansing bunch has absorbed the evil and dirt of malevolent supernaturals, it must be left in a place where it cannot harm anyone. 5. Since then, and especially during the past five or six years, the incidence of suicide has increased considerably, though it is still far from a common phenomenon. It is striking to note that nearly all those who commit suicide, male and female, are young people, in their late teens and early twenties. The problem has not been investigated, but it seems to be related to secularizing changes that many rural Tlaxcalan communities have been experiencing. 6. The chief medical officer of the state of Tlaxcala told me in 1961 that if sick infants were taken to a physician upon the onset of the first serious symptoms, infant mortality would be significantly reduced. Indeed, that is precisely what happened. While 50 percent of children died before the age of five in i960, the proportion had declined to less than 20 percent by 1983, and this was primarily due to better access to medical attention, although improved housing and hygienic conditions also contributed. Meanwhile, however, the birth rate did not decline correspondingly, and the result was that the population of the twenty-one municipios under consideration doubled between i960 and 1983. 7. The chief medical officer of Tlaxcala has suggested, on the basis of more than a dozen infants he had examined whose death had been attributed to the tlahuelpuchi, that these deaths were the result of asphyxia and choking. My own examination of almost fifty such deaths between i960 and 1967, corroborated that conclusion, though subsequently I came to believe that some of the deaths might now be called sudden infant death syndrome (crib death). It must be added that the possibility of infanticide cannot be ruled out. For a discussion of the psychological contexts in which the tlahuelpuchi system operates, see Nutini and Roberts (forthcoming). 8. The people believe that pine wood has the special property of warding off evil spirits and of purifying the environment when something evil or dreadful has taken place (not only when an infant has been sucked by the tlahuelpuchi, but also when a person has been affected by the evil eye or the bad wind). However, I have never been able to elicit a verbal explanation of the shape of the cross. Symbolically, though, the oblique 421

NOTES

cross is a homologous inversion of the tlahuelpuchi's characteristic rite over the house of the victim just before the sucking takes place, which marks the different status of the dead infant. (For further details, see Nutini and Roberts, forthcoming.) Chapter 5 ι. In the largely deterministic world of rural Tlaxcalans, "luck" is not a good descriptive term. Supernatural beings order the course of events, which is why it is so important to have the supernatural powers on your side. Thus, when, for example, disaster strikes, the people do not say that the affected person or persons were "unlucky" but rather that they did or did not do something that offended particular supernaturals and as a result were deprived of supernatural protection. Withdrawal of supernatural support or protection is almost always attributed to the failure of individuals to comply with their ritual and ceremo­ nial obligations. 2. Don Juan, the Yaqui Indian informant about whom Carlos Castaneda has written so much, would qualify as one of these rare native philosophers. A number of Casteneda's critics have doubted the existence of Don Juan, on the ethnocentric ground that such sophisticated and insightful individuals are not to be found among the Indians and peasants of Mesoamerica. This is simply not so; two or three of my best informants could be regarded as the equals of Don Juan in their ability to describe and explain esoteric and highly complex matters. Nevertheless, I do doubt the existence of Don Juan, on the ground of his assertions about a "separate reality" beyond the realm of the ordinary, sci­ entific cause-and-effect world. Don Juan actually speaks less like a Yaqui In­ dian than like an Indian of the Central Mexican highlands, and yet what he says does not fit with what is known about the ideology and structure of witchcraft, sorcery, and anthropomorphic supernaturalism as these phenomena exist and are practiced in Mesoamerica. Perhaps all the ethnographers who have worked in Central Mexico have failed to understand the fundamental nature of the phenomena, and only Castaneda has been able to reach this higher level of ontological existence. It is more likely, however, that Don Juan and his other world of reality is a composite picture of many concrete ethnographic realities, forged in Castaneda's highly creative imagination. I have the strong suspicion that most of Castaneda's recognizable, albeit vague, ethnographic information, which he weaves into such appealing tales, comes from the Indian populations of the states of Puebla, Oaxaca, Guerrero, and Veracruz. Castaneda has the un­ canny ability to take a kernel of ethnographic truth and blow it up into a fan­ tastic tale that captures the readers' imagination and makes them suspend all critical judgment. Consider, for example, the concepts of the nahual (transforming witch or trickster) and the tonal (a kind of guardian angel or spirit). Castaneda takes some basic attributes of these supernaturals, common to the belief systems of a number of Indian groups in the Central Mexican highlands, and turns them into unrecognizable epic caricatures, which would be alien to even the most 422

NOTES

traditional Indian community in this area. Except for a few of its essential properties, such as its powers to transform itself into animals and to bend the will of ordinary humans, the individual behavior and social deportment of Castaneda's nahual not only would be meaningless but would not even seem Tlaxcalan to one of my philosopher-informants. Castaneda's nahual might make sense to the Cuicatec Indians or to some Indian group in the Valle Nacional, but there is doubt even about that. Castaneda overlooks the possibility that the witchcraft that pervades his account is essentially a projective phenomenon, which is one of the common characteristics of anthropomorphic supernaturalism in Mesoamerica. Rather, he is trying to persuade us that there is indeed an ontological separate reality in the magical world of Don Juan and that of his other personages. In this endeavor, Castaneda has abandoned his role as an anthropologist, whose task it is to translate projective "separate realities" into the language of science and make sociological, psychological, and physical sense out of them. It is not my intention to detract from Castaneda's skill as a myth maker and a spinner of supernatural tales. But his importance lies in the beauty of his language, the entrancing cadence of his narrative, his considerable wisdom, and his psychological insight into the nature of human existence. But a surprising number of professionals, including psychiatrists, writers, and even some anthropologists, have hailed Castaneda as the herald of a new philosophy of perception and as the prophet of an alternative world of reality in which scientific cause-and-effect does not necessarily apply. Lest the reader misunderstand me, I am not denying the epistemological, sociological, projective, and physical reality of witchcraft, sorcery, and anthropomorphic supernaturalism in general. But what scientific anthropology does deny is the ontological reality of anthropomorphic supernaturalism—the ability of witches to fly, or of sorcerers to perform feats that cannot be explained by the established canons of cause and effect, and, in general, the existence of domains in which scientific reasoning cannot be applied. The insistence that there is such a reality is a dangerous position, because it tends to assign prelogical and prescientific (or nonlogical and nonscientific) modes of thinking and perception to so-called "primitive" and other non-Western societies, which are largely outside the scientific tradition of the West. This position is also romanticism at its worst, for the wishful assignment of superior wisdom, special powers, and higher conceptions of human existence to individuals and segments of non-Western societies is little more than a projection of Western man's insecurity and disappointment with materialism, and a basic misunderstanding of science. This attitude is ultimately patronizing and unfair to the real wisdom and particular knowledge that can be gained by the study of modes of perception and conceptualization, natural and supernatural, in other societies. 3. During the Todos Santos celebrations of i960 and 1961,1 witnessed La Despedida in the communities of San Felipe Cuauhtenco and San Bartolome Cuahuixmatla. Unfortunately, I had not yet become aware of the symbolic meaning of placing the candles and copalcaxitls on the four cardinal points, 423

NOTES

and so I did not ask for an explanation. In 1974, when I again witnessed La Despedida, this time in the community of San Miguel Xaltipac, I had realized that a number of elements of the farewell to the dead were probably pre-Hispanic survivals, and I did ask two old informants about them. Their responses, together with ancillary data, leave little doubt that Tequixquimixtla is essentially a pre-Hispanic rite, which apparently has survived more or less unchanged. 4. The Spanish term octava means in this context the "eighth" day after the main celebration of a Catholic feast, and it is widely used in this sense in Mesoamerica and much of Latin America. However, in most of rural Mexico, at least, it is a misnomer. The terminating rites of a festive cycle actually occur seven and not eight days after the main events, and so the day should be called the suptima. The reason for this peculiarity presumably is that, in the scheme of time of Catholicism, the day of the main feast counts for a whole day, and hence the subsequent rites take place eight days later. The same logic is at work in the common Mesoamerican expressions "te veo en ocho [dias]" (I'll see you in eight days—that is, a week) and "te veo en quince [dias]" (I'll see you in fifteen days—that is, a fortnight). Be that as it may, many of the main feasts of Catholicism and local folk festivities in Mesoamerica have octavas: Corpus Christi, Easter, the feast of the patron saint, and so on. Chapter 6 i. The word mole has many meanings. In rural Tlaxcala, and in most of Central Mexico, it is a shorthand term for mole de guajolote. This traditional Tlaxcalan dish is also known as mole tlaxcalteca, which is very similar to the more widely known mole poblano, which refers to its association with the city of Puebla. Tlaxcalans insist that mole poblano is derived from or is nothing more than mole tlaxcalteca. Whether this is true or not, it does illustrate the traditional enmity that has marked the relationship between Tlaxcala and Puebla since the sixteenth century, a relationship which, as far as Tlaxcalans are concerned, is epitomized in the saying, "Hasta el mole nos han robado esos malditos poblanos" (Those damned Pueblans have stolen even mole from us). In its generic meaning, mole in Central Mexico refers to a variety of thin and thick sauces and souplike concoctions made of many different kinds of chili peppers, spices, herbs, and other ingredients. Other dishes that use the word are mole de panza (tripe in sauce) and tesmole (thin souplike sauce). z. In the local iconology of Catholicism, God the Father and God the Holy Spirit are never represented alone or with each other only, but always with God the Son as the Holy Trinity. The explanation that rural Tlaxcalans give for this peculiarity (which, it may be noted in passing, also makes intelligible to them the conception of the Holy Trinity) goes along the following lines: "We don't know what God the Father looks like, for he never came to earth, nor has he revealed himself to anyone. God the Son came to earth, and we know what he looks like. God the Son is represented in pictures and statues because we have good accounts of his person. God the Father cannot be represented by himself 424

NOTES

or with the Holy Spirit because nobody has even seen him. But he can be represented with his son, for sons must somehow resemble their fathers, and it is necessary to show this by always representing God the Father next to his son. The Holy Spirit can only be represented in pictures and statues together with God the Father and God the Son, for the Holy Spirit is the all-powerful nature of Father and Son, which can never be separated from either of them. And that is why we only have pictures and statues of Jesus and the Holy Trinity." In the Central Mexican highlands, the Holy Trinity is generally depicted as God the Father and God the Son seated next to each other, with their left and right hands resting on a globe, while the all-seeing eye of the Holy Spirit, peering out of a triangle beneath a white dove, looks down upon them. The most unusual depiction of the Holy Trinity is part of a representation of the Holy Family, a rather popular icon in the folk Catholicism of the Central Highlands. The five members of the Holy Family, seated on thrones, are placed on top of the five fingers of a palm-up open hand: Jesus Christ on the middle finger, the Virgin Mary on the forefinger, Saint Joseph on the ring finger, Saint Joachim on the thumb, and Saint Anne on the little finger. Directly above Jesus Christ sits God the Father, and right above him flutters the dove of the Holy Spirit. 3. In i960, seventeen sites were identified in the municipio of Juan Cuamatzi alone (Nutini i968:map z). One of these, the large fortified site of Teztepeztla (circa A.D. 300), was surveyed during the past decade by Angel Garcia Cook (1981:265). 4. The generic name the people use for pre-Hispanic idols, figurines, and pottery is cosas antediluvianas—"things from before the flood." Rural Tlaxcalans know that the artifacts were made by humans, especially the pottery, which does not look very different from the earthenware they use today. Mounds and ruins are probably the most tangible connections of rural Tlaxcalans with los antiguos, "the ancient ones," the people who occupied the land before the arrival of the Spaniards—a time, if not a date, that is still somewhat fixed in the societal consciousness. In the case of the site of Teztepeztla surveyed by Garcia Cook, for example, the people of San Bernardino Contla could see the natural stratification of several houses as they were laid bare by the vertical cut of a ravine. In i960,1 asked one of the owners of the land where Teztepeztla stands how old he thought these "antediluvian houses" were. He answered, "Tienen mucho mas de mil anos" (they are much more than a thousand years old), which, in view of the subsequent dating of about A.D. 300, was not a bad guess. Rural Tlaxcalans look upon pre-Hispanic artifacts with respect, as having belonged to people whom they consider their remote ancestors, and that is why they are found in the ofrendas. Contemporary Tlaxcalans believe that archeological artifacts, especially clay figurines, have magical powers, by virtue of having been made by people regarded as having possessed supernatural powers. As such, the powder made of ground clay figurines has become an important component of poultices, magical recipes, and ritual manipulations. 5. Wooden crucifixes are the oldest physical representations of Catholic supernaturals to be found in rural Tlaxcalan households. With the help of artist 425

NOTES Desiderio Xochitiotzin, I have established that several of them are of sixteenthcentury origin. Two of them are crosses made of wood with the body of Christ made of hardened corn paste. Crucifixes of this kind are rare today, because the religious authorities of New Spain apparently put a stop to the practice of mak­ ing them well before the end of the sixteenth century. The symbolic identifica­ tion of the body of Christ with the tzoalli representation of certain pre-Hispanic gods was evidently too obvious for the church to permit them to continue to be made. Chapter 7 i . In traditional rural Tlaxcalan life, the ofrenda was one of several institu­ tions and activities that people used as symbols of social and economic status. Provision of lavish entertainment at weddings and other occasions, and gener­ ous sponsorship of religious and secular feasts, were other such activities. The effects of modernization and secularization are illustrated by the replacement of these activities with such symbols as automobiles, modern houses, and other material possessions. z. As a rule, a nonresidential extended family composes only one major ofrenda. When one of its satellite households begins to make a major ofrenda of its own, that is a sign that the satellite household has become an ancestral household in its own right, that is, it has acquired one or more satellite house­ holds of its own. This sociological process of fission occurs every twenty-five or thirty years. 3. The process bears a strong resemblance to the way language changes: the structure of the ofrenda, its "grammar," has remained constant, while new of­ ferings, or "lexical items," have been added. Grammars and structures also change, but at a much slower rate. The changes in the ofrenda after i960, how­ ever, have been "grammatical" and not simply "lexical," for they have radi­ cally transformed its structure and meaning. Perhaps it might be said that mod­ ernization is analogous to lexical change and secularization to grammatical change. 4. The term "traditional" must be defined in specific contexts of change; thus, the "traditional" structure of the ofrenda changed between the last dec­ ade of the nineteenth century and around 1950 and even more noticeably since then. Moreover, it is probably ideologically that the term is most commonly used, and properly so, because "what-ought-to-be" cultural entities are always more permanent than their structural counterparts (Nutini 1971:1-14). In this monograph, "traditional" is used in both its structural and ideological mean­ ings, with the context indicating the sense in which it is employed on each oc­ casion. 5. In i960 and 1961, when most of the information for this monograph was gathered, such a high degree of traditionalism seemed surprising, given the high frequency of labor migration and the considerable experience with the outside world that rural Tlaxcalans had been experiencing for three generations. In 198ζ and 1983, when I again interviewed some two dozen of my original in426

NOTES

formants, it became clear that the process of secularization for the cult of the dead had greatly accelerated in the intervening two decades. 6. This may seem to contradict the previous assertion about the skepticism toward the cult of the dead that prevails in transitional households, but such is not the case. The very segment of the population that begins to question the value of the cult of the dead is nevertheless impelled to intensify one aspect of it. The ofrenda becomes a symbol of the impending demise of the cult, and so, perhaps for expressive reasons, it is magnified to a maximum degree. This phenomenon is what I have called the "syndrome of the calm before the storm": systems and institutions acquire their most complex expression when they are about to change radically. How far this can be generalized, I do not know, but it has been a recurring theme in rural Tlaxcalan culture during the past three generations, and it has been amply documented in, for example, previous studies of compadrazgo (Nutini and Bell 1980; Nutini 1984). 7. It must be emphasized that rural Tlaxcala does not have the clear-cut ethnic differentiation between Indian and Mestizo that is found in such regions of Mesoamerica as Highland Guatemala, Oaxaca, and the Sierra de Puebla, where the core of the local economic elites are Mestizo. Rather, the economic elites in rural Tlaxcala have developed along class-stratification lines of the urban type. 8. There is good empirical evidence of the mental, behavioral, and cultural inadequacy, friction, pain, and dislocation entailed by upward mobility not only in these Tlaxcalan households but also along the entire spectrum of the Mexican stratification system. An example comparable to the acculturated ofrenda and its setting, but at the opposite extreme of the stratification system, is the arrangement of the sola (living room) in the home of an upwardly mobile upper-middle-class family in Mexico City. Trying to imitate the established upper class, the family may furnish the room with expensive furniture but cover the sofas and armchairs with plastic covers, display fine crystal and ceramic decorations in profusion but without a sense of place and symmetry, and decorate the room with elaborate draperies and rugs but without a sense of appropriate color combinations. The meaning of such arrangements in terms of position and aspirations in the stratification system is readily apparent to the observer. 9. The typology is admittedly descriptive rather than theoretical, but it does not differ in that respect from other conceptualizations of change developed by anthropologists. A true theory of change has not emerged in anthropology, because anthropologists have failed to come to grips with the psychological component that such a theory must entail. As long as anthropologists, and other social scientists, insist on looking at change from a strictly sociological viewpoint, their conceptions will remain merely descriptive. Barnett (1971) has been one of the few anthropologists who have tried to deal with the psychological variables, but unfortunately, his efforts have not been heeded. 10. One of the most impressive aspects of rural Tlaxcalan culture is its extraordinary degree of orderliness. The internal organization of traditional com427

NOTES

munities is remarkably free of contradictions, and units and institutions are regulated by a consistent ideology. It is only when secularization sets in that communities become factionalized and friction-ridden. The principle of orderliness is especially noticeable in the religious domain. There is a logic in the religious thinking, and in the behavior and activities that derive from it, that makes the folk religion of most communities even now a coherent and smoothly functioning system. It was often possible to predict, for example, the kind of behavior and ritual activity associated with a given mayordomia and later have it confirmed by informants. This concern with logical thinking and exactness in the discharge of rites and ceremonies seems to be not so much a reflection of Catholicism as a surviving expression of pre-Hispanic religion (as it was embodied in a highly diversified polytheistic system, much of the logic of which remains unknown). Rural Tlaxcala may not be an exception in this respect; probably the same logic and religious orientation are present in several other Mesoamerican regions. i i . The combination of blessed water and zoapatl is a good example of the dualism of Catholic and pagan that pervades rural Tlaxcalan folk religion. Often, as in the present example, the Catholic and the pagan reinforce each other. Another example is the cleansing rite (limpia) for the sick. The cleansing bunch is brought before a saint in church by kinsmen of the ailing person, and it is also manipulated by a tezitlazc or a tetlachihuic in the name of a pagan supernatural. This dualism probably arose out of the essentially separate processes of syncretism that religion and witchcraft and sorcery underwent during the first 150 years after the introduction of Catholicism into the region. i z . Because of the hardships of the Reconquista, Spaniards during the late Middle Ages were released from the prohibition against eating meat on Fridays, and it appears that the consumption of fish became especially associated with Lent and Holy Week, when, in reciprocity for the Moslem holiday of Ramadan, Christians and Moslems suspended all military operations. 13. This interpretation was suggested by one of my local informants, not explicitly but with unmistakable intent. The name of this informant was Don Vicente Xelhuantzi, my compadre and friend, who died in 1974 at the age of 93. He was the best informant that I ever had in a generation of fieldwork in Tlaxcala. My knowledge of the ideology of religion and of many of the most esoteric aspects of the belief system of rural Tlaxcalan culture owes much to Don Vicente's excellence as an informant, to his insightful mind, and to his profound knowledge of Catholic and pagan ideology and practice. I shall pay tribute to this native philosopher and theologian and inestimable friend in a forthcoming biography. 14. Loss of faith in the human-supernatural covenant is one of the most common preludes to secularization, which is manifested in withdrawal from participation in the mayordomia system and the ayuntamiento religioso. Although secularized individuals may still practice some aspects of the cult of the dead and the cult of the saints, they no longer believe that the supernaturals are bound to grant individual or collective supplications merely because people 428

NOTES

have engaged in all the activities that are supposed to assure that outcome. Material forces no doubt also play a part in secularization, but the sufficient conditions that trigger it are always religious. There are many thoroughly modernized rural Tlaxcalans, indistinguishable in behavior and material trappings from the most secularized sector of the population, who are as staunch supporters of the central institutions of the folk religion as are the most conservative members of the local community. Hence, material conditions can be regarded as necessary causes, but the sufficient conditions for change and development, at least in peasant societies, are seldom if ever material; rather, they are most often social and religious, and these conditions, furthermore, have a feedback effect on subsequent developments as well. Chapter 8 i. This reconstruction is based on my own observation of rural Tlaxcalan churches and on information in the archives of these churches. The archives sometimes contain libros de fabrica (see chapter 3) and other documents on the construction of the church, its history of repairs and improvements, and ancillary information. The religious structures themselves are intrinsic sources of valuable information—not merely the dates often inscribed in the framework, but also the architectural style, the building materials, and the orientation of the structures. On the basis of these indicators I was able, for example, to determine that the side chapels in the churches of San Bernardino Contla and San Francisco Tetlanohca were of late sixteenth-century origin, which was later confirmed by the art historian Helga von Kuegelgen de Kropfinger. 2. The type of architecture in these churches is known in the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley as estilo palafoxiano (Palafoxian style), after Juan de Palafox y Mendoza, bishop of Puebla. Palafox was a declared enemy of the regular orders, and by 1642 he had managed to remove the Franciscan and Dominican friars from direct control of the Indian congregations in his bishopric, which then extended from Tamaulipas to Oaxaca, a much larger territory than comprise today the states of Tlaxcala and Puebla. At least the fagades of all Palafoxian churches in Tlaxcala were built between 1640 and 1680. 3. The assertion that the open chapel {capilla abierta) antedates the monastery church by more than a decade is difficult to document. However, both Gibson (1952:46-54), the main authority on sixteenth-century Tlaxcala, and McAndrews (1965:418-443), the recognized authority on sixteenth-century open chapels in Mexico, do say that open chapels preceded monasteries, as ad hoc structures for the earliest phase of religious conversion. Moreover, other considerations must be taken into account. First, following the construction of the open chapel at the site of the monastery in the then newly founded city of Tlaxcala (circa 1528), which became the prototype, many open chapels were constructed in strategically located communities in the province between 1530 and 1540. Of the twenty or so original open chapels, at least eight have survived and are today in various stages of ruin or disrepair; in addition to those in Tlaxcala and Tepeyango, they are located in San Esteban Tizatlan, Santa 429

NOTES

Maria Atlihuetzian, San Felipe Ixtacuixtla, San Matias Tepetomatitlan, Santa Barbara Acuizcuicatepec, and San Juan Cuauhzingo. The others either were destroyed or were covered by or incorporated into later structures. Open chapels were the earliest religious structures built by the Franciscan friars outside the capital of the province. Quicker and simpler to construct than regular churches or large chapels, open chapels, with their spacious esplanades fanning out in semicircles, were more appropriate structures for accommodating the thousands of Indians who were flocking to the friars for baptism and indoctrination on Sundays and for many other occasions throughout the year. Second, the architectural design and construction of open chapels in Tlaxcala have peculiarities that belong to an earlier phase of religious construction in the province than the monastery churches built in strategic communities. Moreover, the location of the open chapels, at least in Tepeyango, Ixtacuixtla, and Atlihuetzian, is to the left of the church, so the structural logic (the way the arches and background structure of the open chapel are attached to the left wall of the convent church) as well as the religious considerations (the earlier need for mass baptisms and religious services) make it highly likely that open chapels were built before churches. It is also likely that, even after churches were built next to them, open chapels continued to be used for religious occasions such as Holy Week and Corpus Christi, which were attended by thousands of Indians not easily accommodated inside the churches. 4. The atriums in rural Tlaxcala began to be modernized around 1940. As already indicated, the general idea was to get rid of old graves as much as possible by paving as many level spaces as the situation permitted. In the process, many graves were lost, but there were still enough extant old tombstones nearly twenty years later to allow recognition of the extent to which the atrium had been used as a burial place. A second burst of modernization began in the mid1970s and was still going on in 1984. While the earlier phase of modernization was initiated by local communities, with the intention of making the atrium a more appropriate enclosure for religious ceremonies, the later phase was provoked by the efforts of state and federal agencies to make the civic-religious centers of rural communities cosmetically more "urban-looking." Many communities resisted the changes, not because they opposed modernization per se, but because the changes destroyed the atriums' integrity as sacred enclosures, to say nothing of the obliteration of the remaining tombstones, which apparently, after the first phase of modernization, the people had belatedly grown fond of. In at least a dozen rural Tlaxcalan atriums there is now hardly a tombstone to be seen, though their locations are still remembered and marked on Todos Santos. 5. There are several kinds of evidence that support this dating. First, the Franciscans, during the sixteenth century, built chapels or churches in all sizable Tlaxcalan communities, at least in all the headtowns or calpullis (barrios) listed in the general census of Tlaxcala ordered by Viceroy Luis de Velasco in 1556. All of these communities were of pre-Hispanic origin, and Totolac was among them. The churches and chapels were modest religious structures, most 430

NOTES

of which probably lasted until the beginning of the eighteenth century. Second, with the Palafoxian reform and the establishment of the parochial system, the churches of the headtowns of parishes were replaced by much more imposing structures, roughly between 1640 and 1680. These are the churches known today in Tlaxcala as iglesias palafoxianas, and they are certainly the most impressive religious structures in the region. Third, the Franciscans established a monastery in Totolac in 1575 (Gibson 1952:51). The settlement was first located on the banks of the Zahuapan River, but shortly before the beginning of the seventeenth century, it was moved to the slopes of the nearby hills. The monastery itself was abandoned, and a new church was evidently constructed more or less on the site of the present church, as attested to by the much larger atrium of Totolac's church today. The majority of those sixteenth-century churches and chapels in pre-Hispanic communities that became visiting churches of parochial headtowns probably remained in service until the eighteenth century; the original church of Totolac was one of them. Probably only very important communities, such as Santa Maria Atlihuetzian, that did not become parochial headtowns during the Palafoxian reform, managed to replace their modest sixteenth-century churches with more impressive structures during the second half of the seventeenth century. 6. It is interesting to note that the lintel assembly at the top of the roughly fifty-foot-high walls of the church suggest that the ceiling and roof had been made of wood covered with tile. This was a rather uncommon architectural feature of Franciscan, Dominican, and Augustinian monasteries in Mesoamerica, though there is another and superb example in the ceiling and roof of the monastery in the city of Tlaxcala, done in the muddjar style. Such a roof, if left unattended, would collapse rather quickly. 7. This paragraph is written in the ethnographic present, but actually these graves have since been destroyed. In 1978-1979, the Tlaxcala office of the National Institute of Anthropology and History persuaded the people of Atlihuetzian that the graves inside the walls of the monastery church should be razed, in order, as it was put to them, "to preserve the integrity of the colonial monument." There was much opposition to this proposal, but the modernizing faction in the community finally won out, and the floor of the old ruin was transformed into a barren, unattractive space covered with reddish tile. Only a few tombstones survived. Thus came to an end one of the most interesting and unusual burial places in Mesoamerica, which had contained some of the finest niched graves in Tlaxcala—a space that, in the celebration of death on Todos Santos, paradoxically came alive. Moreover, the integrity of the monument was not in fact preserved, and despite some cosmetic restoration, the old ruin remains dilapidated and without a roof. 8. By the same token, the sense of loss at the ravages to this cemetery is all the more intense. Some of the traditional patterns of grave decoration can still be seen, but the old gusto and craftsmanship are gone. One cannot help but wonder about the bargain struck when folk people give up their social and re43 1

NOTES ligious traditions in the expectation of economic improvement—especially when the improvement is not forthcoming or does not satisfy cultural needs. Chapter 9 i. The mayordomos and attendants, the tezitlazcs, and sometimes the tetlachihuics function as priests in their intermediary roles between the community and the organized Catholic and the unorganized pagan pantheons. In rural Tlaxcalan culture, all intermediaries and ritual sponsors, including compadres and padrinos, share a certain risk with the mediated entity (be it a person, image, object, or occasion) and with those who are the immediate object of the sponsorship. For example, if the supplication for good crops for a particular year is not heard, the mayordomos and attendants of the pertinent mayordomias of the cult of the dead are regarded as having been unlucky (no fueron de suerte). This has a negative effect on the reelection of these officials or their nomination for future sponsorships, while those sponsors who were lucky are elected or nominated again and again. This element of risk is particularly notable in the compadrazgo system, when individuals regarded as lucky are asked to serve as ritual sponsors much more than the average person (see Nutini 1984:400-418). 2. The belief system and structural discharge of the cult of the dead, in its private and public manifestations, are good examples of the basic nature of the processes of syncretism and acculturation, respectively. In both cases, the social actors within a completely achieved syncretic complex are not generally aware of the original elements; they behave as if there were no discrepancies or contradictions in the discharge of the complex. Only to outsiders are the discrepancies and distinct provenances of particular parts and components of the complex apparent. The anthropologist, in the course of analyzing and explaining the structural composition and historical origin of the system, discovers the syncretic nature of the process that ultimately resulted in the observed complex. In this endeavor, the anthropologist determines the syncretic, intermediate, or acculturative nature of the functioning system on the basis of the original degree of similarity of the elements in interaction, the quality and quantity of elements, and the external variables that have affected the process over a given period of time (the syncretic or acculturative cycle). This is what has been done here in disentangling the cult of the dead, leading to the conclusion that the private cult of the dead is a syncretic complex, while the public cult of the dead is an acculturative complex. Thus, a seemingly unitary system, such as the cult of the dead, may be decomposed into different parts with different functions within a larger system—in the present case, the folk religion of rural Tlaxcala. 3. It is possible that this ceremony was also held in other communities, at least in 1961 when the information was gathered. Three elderly informants from San Bartolome Cuahuixmatla said they were reasonably certain that it was widespread on the western slopes of La Malintzi when they were young, 432

NOTES which would have been about the turn of the century. They added, however, that many customs had disappeared during the previous fifty years. 4. In the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley, Saint Michael is venerated at the shrine of San Miguel del Milagro, in the Tlaxcalan community of the same name. After the shrine of the Virgin of Ocotlan, San Miguel del Milagro is the most venerated in the valley. There are strong indications that Saint Michael's pre-Hispanic counterpart in the community was Tlaloc, the god of rain. 5. Compadrazgo may be regarded as the sacralization of an entire category of interpersonal action. Friendship is the most important situational context out of which rural Tlaxcalans choose their compadres. This can happen only within the framework of an essentially egalitarian society, which rural Tlaxcala was until the ethnographic present of this monograph. When stratification sets in, so does the desacralization of compadrazgo (see Nutini 1984:100-128). Chapter 10 i. The low-incidence and vestigial beliefs given here as nos. xii-xvi were reported by Starr (1900:27-29) for the last decade of the nineteenth century and have survived in the same or a slightly modified form. AU other beliefs concerning the cult of the dead reported by Starr remain fully functional and were included in the preceding section. 2. At least in anthropology, even the most serious and reputable efforts to blend psychology and sociology have been only minimally successful as explanations. Rather, they constitute abstract descriptions of sociological facts, when sociological explanations have been stretched to the limit. This is especially the case with Freudian and other psychoanalytical "explanations," which are essentially not explanations but merely vague general statements about the ultimate psychological makeup of the actors in a social system. One is left with the impression that, if there is an explanation involved, the direction of causality is not specified, so that it is impossible to say for certain whether individual behavior is the explanation of collective behavior or vice versa. 3. This will convey some idea of the data requirements of the threefold scheme. Even after a generation of fieldwork in rural Tlaxcala, there are still several domains that would have to be tapped in order to have sufficient quantitative data. As another example, the data set on 2,000 complete compadrazgo careers in four communities took three interviewers more than two years to collect. Moreover, it was possible to gather this set and make it epistemologically meaningful only after the ethnology of the institution had been thoroughly grounded. There are some sociocultural domains that cannot be investigated by sampling, so the data requirements for sophisticated theoretical constructs can be staggering. In this view of the anthropologist's craft, many quantitative studies have failed because they have not been well founded ethnologically, while ethnographic studies have seldom collected quantitative data in depth. 4. Since the ideology is seldom if ever verbalized by actors, it must be elicited indirectly and by circumlocution, and so it may take literally years to collect the

433

NOTES

facts necessary to formulate it coherently. This presupposes a thorough knowledge of the sociocultural situation in which it is embedded, which further complicates the task. Given these problems, the relatively short periods of time that anthropologists typically spend in the field may well be a major factor in the little interest they have demonstrated in ideology as a scientific construct. 5. In addition to those few folk philosophers whom I have encountered in rural Tlaxcala, and to whom I am so greatly indebted for my knowledge of rural Tlaxcalan religion, I have also met some old and middle-aged informants who have verbalized in fairly explicit terms these conceptions concerning the worlds of the living and the dead. But even aside from these attestations, the actions of rural Tlaxcalans concerning the afterlife speak louder than their words. Chapter 11 i. In the work of several anthropologists, especially in their studies of kinship and religion, one can detect some glaring errors in the assignment of origins to traits and complexes. This is not to say that, in order to avoid any possibility of error, anthropologists should refrain from making assignments on the basis of probabilities; it is more fruitful to risk making errors and leave it to others to detect and correct them (the course adopted in this work). However, the reference here is to errors of the larger context, such as maintaining that bilateral exogamy within the fourth degree of consanguinity is an Indian institution, when every cultural historian should know that this practice is of European origin and was fully functional in Spain at the close of the Middle Ages. 2.. On the other hand, it appears that contemporary folk and Indian religion in the Andean area is neither as syncretic nor perhaps as acculturative as Mesoamerican folk and Indian religion. The reason for this is that the Inca and folk magico-religious systems at the time of the Spanish Conquest were significantly less similar to Spanish Catholicism than was the Mesoamerican magicoreligious system. It may therefore be hypothesized that the local religious systems of highest incidence in Andean Indian and folk communities are those that are either essentially Catholic or essentially pre-Hispanic in general configuration. 3. The same process has been observed in the development of the compadrazgo system in Tlaxcala (Nutini and Bell 1980:332-344). As the system emerged, its more central elements (for example, ritual sponsorship for baptism and marriage) came to be more orthodox and further removed from preHispanic practices; conversely, its more marginal elements (for example, ritual sponsorship for extreme unction and the setting up of a cross) were less orthodox and closer to pre-Hispanic practices. Chapter iz i. If this difference has not always been clear in previous pages of this monograph, it has only been because of a desire not to complicate the description

434

NOTES

by constant repetition that what appeared to be "economic behavior" was ac­ tually the economic aspect of the social or religious system or subsystem being discussed. Also, it is worth reiterating here that some traditional institutions were able to accommodate themselves to the economic pressures and to survive more or less intact: pagan beliefs in tutelary mountain owners and various supernaturals; the practices of witchcraft, sorcery, and curing; the rituals sur­ rounding the cult of the dead; the mayordomia system and the ayuntamiento religioso; the barrio socioreligious organization; the compadrazgo system; and certain aspects of the kinship system pertaining to the extended family—in short, what has been called in this monograph the traditional integrative core of rural Tlaxcalan culture and society. 2. The accounts of my oldest informants of what the cult of the dead was like at the turn of the century bear a striking resemblance to the structure of the institution in the middle of the seventeenth century, as reconstructed from the libros de cofradia. 3. Comparison of photographs shows that ofrendas for the 1984 Todos San­ tos celebration that were intended to be "full-fledged" were actually skimpier than the token ofrendas of i960. The deterioration even between 198ζ and 1984 is noticeable. Indeed, an increasing number of households are not setting up ofrendas at all, something that was unusual even four or five years ago. 4. The questionnaire contained ten questions for each of the nine directives. In 1975, the ten communities in which the questionnaire was administered were all transitional-Mestizo and had been experiencing secularization for at least five years. This sample of communities today would represent less than the median degree of secularization for the rural Tlaxcalan area.

435

GLOSSARY

Spanish and Nahuatl terms used in the text are explained when they first occur, but for the convenience of the reader, those that are used twice or more have been compiled here in one place. Proper nouns are capitalized. The accessories, decorations, and offerings to the dead on the household altar for the All Saints Day-All Souls Day celebration are listed and explained in the first section of Chapter 6. acompanantes attendants to the stewards and officers of the local religious hierarchy agradicimiento thanksgiving; verbal exchanges after the successful conclusion of many ritual and ceremonial complexes in the life and annual cycles ahijada goddaughter ahijado godson ahueros omens; auguries alcatraz calla lily (Zantedeschia spp.) alegrias candy squares or rectangles made of amaranth, sugar, honey, and other ingedients alehi stocks (the flower: Mathiola incana) animas (munecos de sal) semisweet diamond-shaped confections that are stylized representations of human figures antojitos (mexicanos) Mexican treats or snacks arenilla fine-grained sand used for decorating graves ataque de espiritus attack of spirits ates hard pastes, made from various fruits ayuda religious, economic, and social help; nonreciprocal labor exchanges; outright donations in kind or cash ayuntamiento religioso (republica eclesidstica) religious government; body of officials elected annually by local communities barbacoa en mixiote barbecued beef, poultry, or lamb wrapped in agave paper barranca ravine barrios localized or nonlocalized quasi-socioreligious units into which most Tlaxcalan communities are divided bruja, brujo (see tlahuelpuchi) cabecera seat of municipal government; headtown cabecera de doctrina parochial headtown cajetes earthenware bowls calaveras de azucar crystallized sugar skulls Camaxtli (see Huitzilopochtli) 436

GLOSSARY

canasta round basket with handles; the pan de muertos made in that shape; personal ofrenda (chiquihuite) capilla abierta open chapel capulin a type of cherry tree (Prunus capuli) capulincillo nonedible fruit of the madrono tree, used for decorating graves cargo religious office; religious sponsorship carguero religious official in the local hierarchy or in any of the stewardships cazuela earthenware cooking vessel with handles chacualole baked pumpkin slices chalupas fried tortillas spread with tomato sauce, chopped onions, and sometimes shredded beef chicharron en salsa verde pork crackles in a green chili sauce Chichihualcuahuitl The Suckling Tree (a tree with breasts for the sustenance of dead infants); a place where such trees are located; limbo (also chichihuaquaco) chiquihuite basket, especially a round reed, palm, or wicker basket without handles; a ceremonial or thanksgiving offering often placed in such a basket chiquihuite de pedimento ceremonial basket of offerings presented to individuals or groups upon asking them to enter into certain social and religious relationships chirimoya soursops (Annona cherimoya) churriguera (churrigueresco) highly decorated baroque style in the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley Cihuacoatl goddess of earth cocoles semisweet diamond-shaped confections cofrades officers of a sodality cofradia sodality; a group of stewardships; the officers of a sodality or group of stewardships comadre comother; female ritual kinsman compadrazgo ritual kinship; ritual sponsorship of a person, image, object, or occasion, together with a complex of temporary and permanent social, religious, economic, and symbolic attributes binding its personnel (parents, owners, kinsmen, sponsors, and mediating entities) compadre cofather; male ritual kinsman compadres coparents; ritual kinsmen componentes assistants to a steward conjurador (tiempero) weatherman; rainmaker conjuros conjurations; exorcisms consolas consoles copal pine resin; incense copalcaxitl earthenware incense burner coronas round pan de muertos with a single contour line at the summit

437

GLOSSARY

cotones poncho-like woolen garments crucero cross-nave cruces de dnimas blessed souls' crosses; decorated crosses depicting the blessed souls in purgatory, set on a wooden base cruces de ataud coffin crosses cruces de parada erection crosses cruces de parada y bendicion erection and blessing crosses cuernos croissant-like salt-dough confections cura beneficiado beneficiary priest; parish priest in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries cura pdrroco parish priest; resident priest daltas dahlias Dia de la Candelaria Candlemas (February 2.), when seeds and animals are blessed diputados, divutados deputies, usually second in command to a mayordomo dulces de azucar crystallized sugar figurines ehecatl (see mal aire) El Charro Negro the Black Cowboy El Cuatlapanga the anthropomorphic supernatural owner of the hill of the same name; male tutelary mountain owner in the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley encomendero Spanish or Creole grantee of Indian labor; latifundia owner encomienda land granted, together with its Indian inhabitants, to individual Spaniards or Creoles during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries entrega the handing over of an office, image, bride, or cult object to another set of officers or kinsmen estilo palafoxiano architectural style (palafoxian) of the seventeenth century in the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley faena communal labor fajas woolen sashes fiscales main officials of the local religious hierarchy; main officials of the local religious hierarchy together with their assistants (attendants, messengers, sextons, doormen, etc.) floreada covered with flowers galletas cuatas twin cookies galletas de muertos cookies of the dead gallitos de pepita marzipan-like animal figurines made of pumpkin seeds girasol sunflower gorditas corn dough in the shape of tortillas, folded in the middle and filled with meat guanabana soursops {Annona muricata) guayabate guava paste 438

GLOSSARY

hacienda latifundia; the form of land tenure that predominated in Mexico from the middle of the seventeenth century until the revolution of 1910

hechicero (see tetlachihuic) heno Spanish moss hermandad brotherhood; sodality; a type of stewardship which includes among its annual religious functions a pilgrimage to the place where its image is venerated hojaldras bread of the dead (pan de muertos) hojaldras coloradas red-colored pan de muertos buaraches leather sandals huauhtli amaranth in Nahuatl (archaic term) Hueytniccaylhuitl pre-Hispanic feast of Dead Adults huipiles blouse-like upper garments Huitzilopochtli the god of war (Camaxtli) iglesias de visita visiting churches (those without a resident priest) llamatecutli the old goddess Izcalli the eighteenth month of the pre-Hispanic calendar of Central Mexico Iztaccihuatl female tutelary mountain owner in the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley jarra glass pitcher jarro slightly globular, straight-necked earthenware pitcher jicama a slightly sweet watery tuber (Pachyrhizus angulatus) La Despedida (Tequixquimixtla) the farewell to the departing souls of the dead on the late evening of November 2 ladrillon very large brick of pre-Hispanic origin La Llorada (Xochatl) vigil of the dead in the cemetery on the night of November 1-2 La Llorona The Wailing Woman La Malintzi the anthropomorphic supernatural owner of the volcano of the same name; female tutelary mountain owner in the TlaxcalaPueblan Valley laminas oil-on-tin representations of the souls in purgatory or of other Catholic supernaturals las dnimas benditas all the blessed souls; the blessed souls in heaven las dnimas benditas de la buena muerte the blessed souls of proper (peaceful, saintly) dying las dnimas benditas del purgatorio the blessed souls in purgatory las dnimas benditas de todos santos the blessed souls of all saints La Serpiente Emplumada The Feathered Serpent (anthropomorphic supernatural that inhabits the slopes of the La Malintzi volcano) libros de cofradia accounts and ordinances of stewardships and sodalities libros de cuadrante censuses of church tribute libros de fdbrica accounts of church construction and improvements 439

GLOSSARY

limpia ritual cleansing lisos two-layer salt-dough confections llevadas a misa taking an image to church to hear mass los antiguos the ancestors; those who inhabited the land long ago madrina godmother; female ritual sponsor mal aire (ehecatl) bad or evil air mal de ojo evil eye rnartda a promise to God, the Virgin, or a saint in return for a certain favor manposteria stone and mortar construction Matlalcihua slightly malevolent spirit of the ravines; apparition Matlalcueyec (see La Malintzi) mausoleo elaborate mausoleum-like tomb structure mayordomia sponsorship of a religious fiesta in honor of a particular saint, together with a complex of ritual, ceremonial, administrative, and economic functions mayordomias plural of mayordomia mayordomo principal officer of a mayordomia memelas triple-thick tortillas, often eaten with certain kinds of mole merino foreman; official of the local religious hierarchy in charge of the upkeep of the church and cemetery Miccailhuitontli pre-Hispanic feast of dead infants and children Mictlan the lowest of the nine infraworlds in pre-Hispanic religion; "hell" Mictlantecutli the god of hell milpa cultivated plot of land; crops growing on the plot woco de pavo turkey's crest (a variety of amaranth: Amaranthus hypochondriacus) mole Colorado chicken, turkey, or beef in a red mole sauce mole de huajolote turkey in a thick mole sauce mole de pipian turkey or chicken in a green or red sesame sauce mole prieto pork in a thick, dark chili sauce municipio municipality; county; territorial and administrative subdivision of the state of Tlaxcala nahual (nahualli) individual endowed with the supernatural power to transform himself into a donkey, turkey, dog, and small animals; trickster nombramiento yearly selection and appointment of the religious officers of the stewardships and brotherhoods in the local community nopalitos the tender fleshy leaves of the prickly-pear cactus (Opuntia spp.) nube baby's breath (Gypsophila spp.) ocoie pine tree {Pinus teocote) ocoxochitl pine flower (a parasitic plant) 440

GLOSSARY

Octava octave; the eighth day after the celebration of a liturgical feast or any significant folk ritual occasion Octava de Todos Santos the eighth day after All Saints Day (the ninth day of the Todos Santos celebration) ofrenda offerings to the dead displayed in front of the family altar during the All Saints Day-All Souls Day celebration; they include items of food, drink, clothing, and decoration ofrenda de primer muerto special offering displayed in honor of infants, children, and adults who have died since the previous celebration of All Souls Day ofrenda personal institutionalized reciprocal or nonreciprocal exchange of food, drink, and other items between individuals (kinsmen, ritual kinsmen, and friends) and groups of individuals olla globular straight-necked earthenware jars ololiuhqui (cuexpalli) morning glory (Ipomoea lean, I. purpurea, and I. Tricolor) Omecihuatl Our Lady of Corn; the female principle of the creation couple Ometeuctli The Lord of Our Flesh; the male principle of the creation couple padrino godfather; male ritual sponsor Painal the lieutenant of the god of war pan de muertos bread of the dead, baked in several sizes and varieties for the All Saints Day—All Souls Day celebration pan maitl pan de muertos in the shape of a hand pan tochtl pan de muertos in the shape of a rabbit parada de cruz erection of a cross for a number of propitiating and protecting occasions in the annual cycle parada de cruz de entierro erection of burial cross in the cemetery and/ or the place where a person died paraje circumscribed area of land, which may be associated with a nonresidential extended family or name group pata de lean lion's paw (a variety of amaranth: Atnaranthus cruentus) pedimento formal request for ritual, religious, or other kind of sponsorship pellizcadas round cakes of corn meal covered with a green chili sauce pardida del alma soul loss pescado con torta de habas fried fish with broad-bean patties petate palm or straw mat ponche gelatin-like concoction made of corn, rice, and spices Popocatepetl male tutelary mountain owner in the Tlaxcala-Pueblan Valley posadas a series of nine religious celebrations, beginning on December 16 and reenacting the wanderings of the Holy Family primicias first fruits of corn or other crop 441

GLOSSARY

principales (tiaxcas) elders; men who have reached the top of the ladder system or who have discharged important civil and religious offices pulque (neutle, octli) alcoholic beverage made of fermented agave juice Quecholli fourteenth month of the pre-Hispanic calendar of Central Mexico Quetzalcoatl the god of wind; a kind of culture hero rebozo shawl recibimiento acceptance of a bride, image, or ceremonial object; introductory round of speeches during important ritual and ceremonial occasions refresco refreshment offered by a body of religious officials, kinsmen, or ritual kinsmen to another body of similar composition during ritual and ceremonial occasions repartimiento periodic allotment of Indians to individual Spaniards during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries repisa bracket shelf republica de lndios (congregation) republic of Indians; Indian congregation; Indian reserve in colonial times republica eclesidstica (see ayuntamiento religiose) retablo retable; altarpiece rosas roses rosquetes semisweet, pretzel-like confection rosquillas elliptically shaped pan de muertos with a double curvilinear fret at the base and contour lines from the summit to the midslopes sabino juniper (Juniperus sabtna) Sagrada Familia The Holy Family; the Child Jesus, Mary, Saint Joseph, Saint Joachim, and Saint Anne santeros saint dealers; saint painters and sculptors sarapes woolen blankets of many sizes and designs sarapes de saltillo light, striped woolen blankets senorio principality; small kingdom in pre-Hispanic times servilleta napkin; embroidered cloth siempreviva everlasting flower sortilegios sortileges; divinations tacha (calabaza de homo) baked ground pumpkin Talavera Majolica pottery tamales several kinds of steamed cornmeal dough, with or without filling, wrapped in corn husks tamales rellenos cornmeal dough with fillings, wrapped in corn husks tamales tontos cornmeal dough without filling, wrapped in corn husks tamamixtli (see pan de muertos) tejocote haw (the edible fruit of the hawthorn tree, Crataegus mexicanus) tela de sarape fine woolen cloth telpochcalli men's house in pre-Hispanic times 442

GLOSSARY

temazcal steam bath Tepeilhuitl (Ueypachtli) thirteenth month of the pre-Hispanic calendar of Central Mexico teponaxtle y chirimia traditional drum and flute band, with three to seven musicians tequihua assistant, attendant Tequixquimixtla (see La Despedida) tetlachihuic (hechicero) sorcerer Tezcatlipoca one of the principal gods of Central Mexico tezitlazc weatherman; rainmaker; practitioner endowed with other super­ natural powers tiaxcas (see principales) tiempero (see conjurador) tilmas woolen capes Tititl seventeenth month of the pre-Hispanic calendar of Central Mexico titixtle rough woolen cloth; wraparound skirt made of this cloth and held tight around the waist by a wide woolen band tlacotonales semisweet confections in the shape of stylized hearts tlahuelpuchi (bruja, brujo) bloodsucking witch Tlaloc the god of rain; the ruler of "heaven" Tlalocan the first three supraworlds of pre-Hispanic religion; "heaven" tlaloques acolytes of the god of rain tlatlapas rolled corn dough filled with refried beans Tlaxochimaco ninth month of the pre-Hispanic calendar of Central Mex­ ico Todos Santos the combined liturgical celebration of All Saints Day and All Souls Day, November ι and z; the cult of the dead centered on those days (but lasting from October z8 to November 9) and consist­ ing of a complex of ritual, ceremonial, social, administrative, and economic activities; also known as Dia de Muertos, Dia de los Muertos, Dia de los Difuntos, Dia de las Animas Benditas Tonacacuauhtitlan final destination of dead infants in pre-Hispanic reli­ gion topil assistant; messenger topiles de iglesia assistants in charge of sweeping and cleaning up the atrium of a church tortas (pezunas de sal) salt-dough confections in the shape of round loaves Toxcatl fifth month of the pre-Hispanic calendar of Central Mexico tzoalli dough made of amaranth and other ingredients and used exten­ sively for ritual and ceremonial purposes in pre-Hispanic times veladoras candles in glasses or in the shape of inverted truncated cones vela Maria highly decorated ceremonial candle velorio wake visitas (see iglesias de visita)

443

GLOSSARY

Xiuhtecutli god of fire Xochatl (see La Llorada) Xocotl Huetzi tenth month of the pre-Hispanic calendar of Central Mexico; a special ceremony that took place during that month zacate grass zempoalxochitl flower of the dead; marigold {Tagetes, spp.) zoapatl pain-deadening plant {Montanoa tomentosa)

444

REFERENCES

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454

INDEX

Accidental deaths: beliefs about, 315; categorization of souls, 146; cult of the dead for, 124-127; four-year pilgrimage period, 125; infants and children, 217 Acculturation: impact on ofrenda preparation, 184; ofrenda arrangement, 198, 211-214; syncretism as, 78 Acculturative syncretism, 408 Acxotecatl, 266 Adivinanzas, 135-136 Adornment as expressive array, 383 Adult: categories of dead, 144-148; cult of the dead for, 88, 148-154; definition, 144 Afterlife: conceptions of, 339-342; different abodes in, 341—342 Agricultural cycle: in pre-Hispanic polytheism, 71—72; in Tepeyango, 260 Aguardiente de cana, 175 Alegria candy, 62, 420 n.2; amaranth in, 225 All Saints Day: early beliefs and practices, 43-44; origins of, 38-40; public cult of the dead, 105; significance of, 38—39; syncretic background, 44. See also Todos Santos for celebration as a whole AU Souls Day: abolished in Reformation, 44; associated beliefs and practices, 40-45; household cult of the dead, 95; liturgical status lacking, 42; origins and date, 38; public aspects and social activities, 155-158; as syncretism, 40—41. See also Todos Santos for celebration as a whole Altar, household: in acculturated household, 212; arrangement for dead adults, 148; decoration of family, 117-118; incidence of supernaturals, 191-196; infant deaths, 136; location, 186-187; northern orientation of, 234; offerings described, 164196; room shape for, 187; sacred

precinct, 188-191; structure and content, 186—196; symbolic importance of, 317; use for ofrenda, 187 Amaranth: decoration of graves, 246247, 252; decorations from during Todos Santos, 121; Indians' use of, 103-104; on niched graves, 268-269; in ofrendas, 175; replaced by wheat, 355; role in pre-Hispanic polytheism, 74-75; simple grave decoration, 253; survival of, 420 n.2; symbolism of, 224 Ancestor worship: among Nahuatl peoples, 58; cult of the dead, 53-58; necessity of, 308 Ancestral household, 186; classic traditional ofrenda arrangement, 199-206; as site for ceremonial meal, 156—158; as site of major ofrenda, 198, 317 Ancient Oikumene, 380 Animas de la buena muerte, physical representations, 96-97 Animas de pan, 170-171 "Antecedent psychological states," 394 Antojitos: arrangement in traditional ofrenda, 203; in ofrenda offerings, 173-174; symbolism of, 224 Apparitions, 35-36 Archeological artifacts, 181-182, 425 n.4 Arenilla for sculpted graves, 264—265 Aristocracy: disintegration of, 394; expression among, 382-383; expressive array by, 377; expressive domain, 21, 387-388 Armenian church, 44 Art: expressive array, 379, 382-383; as natural expression, 392 Asymmetrical syncretism, 353-355, 401—416 Ates, 172 Atrium: graves in, 237—238; La Llorada rites, 150; paving of, 256, 368, 371, 430 n.4; in San Juan Totolac, 262-

455

INDEX Atrium {cont.) 263; at Tepeyango, 260-261; tombstones in, 237-238 August io. See Xocotl Huetzi Ayuda, 157-158 Ayuntamiento religioso: cemetery repairs and improvements, 238—239; central importance of, 12; expressive behavior in, 394-395; and folk Catholicism, 411; as guided syncretism, 401; interrelationship with barrio, 11; labor migrants in, 120; mayordomia support for, 279; national Catholicism and, 414; nonreciprocal ofrendas, 293; personal ofrendas, 296; secularization of, 364-365; secularization of clergy and, 100; suicide cases, 131—132; as syncretic institution, 349-350; Todos Santos crystallization, 98, 101 Aztec empire, 53 Baby's breath: decoration of graves, 246—247, 252; in ofrendas, 175; on niched graves, 268-269; symbolism of, 225-226 Bananas and plaintains on ofrenda, 174 Barrio in rural Tlaxcala, 34; as acculturative institution, 349; chiquihuites for, 296 Beans, 174 Behavioral directives, 309-310 Behavior patterns: during Todos Santos, 164; violation of rules, 301-302 Belief system: asymmetrically convergent beliefs, 346, 350; components of, 310-324; convergent beliefs and practices, 344; cult of the dead, 279280, 301-342; decline with modernization, 374-375; diversification of, 328; downward and upward efficacy, 328-329; explanatory analysis and, 334-336; folk-orthodox continuum in Tlaxcala, 35; ideological transformation with modernization, 373-376; latent beliefs, 328—332; manifest beliefs, 328, 330-331; in Mesoamerican religion, 54—55; modernizing context, 364; pre-Hispanic elements, 343-344; redundant beliefs, 329—330; scaling

of beliefs, 329-330; Spanish Catholic elements, 344; structural discharge lacking for some beliefs, 329-330; as structural-ideal domain, 302-304; supported with baroque ofrendas, 209; symmetrically convergent beliefs, 346, 350; syncretism and acculturation, 432 n.2; tlahuelpuchi, 142-143; at turn of the century, 116-118; vestigial beliefs, 320 Bell ringing during La Llorada, 151 Benditas, equivalent to saints, 314 Benedicion de las semillas y de los animales, 140—141, 316 Beneficiado, 107 Blessed souls: collective offerings, 219220; defined, 145; mayordomia of, 277. See also Dead souls Blessed souls in purgatory: defined, 145. See also Dead souls in purgatory Blessed souls of all saints, 145; mayordomia for, 277-278 Blessed water, 174; as violent death offering, 219, 428 n . n Blood feuding, 128-129 Bodin, 24 Bread varieties for ofrenda, 170-171 Brown, L. Keith, 39 Byzantine Church, 44 Cabaceras de doctnna, 239-241, 429 n.2 Cacti for decoration of graves, 261 Cajetes, 173 Calabaza de horno, 172 Calaveras de azucar, 171; homemade vs. bought, 183 Calendars: correlation of Mesoamerican and European, 67-68; dates for celebrating cult of the dead, 66-72; Mesoamerican system, 59-60, 418 n.2 Calla lilies, 246—247, 252 "Calm before the storm" syndrome, 395-396, b42 7 n.6 Calmecac, 287-288 Camotes, 174 Canastas, 170; for household ofrenda, 178; for personal ofrenda, 290-291 Candied fruits, preserves and gelatins, 172; symbolism, 223

456

INDEX Candlemas, 140; worship of infants and children on, 316 Candles: arrangement in traditional ofrenda, 205; decoration of graves, 178, 248-249; for La Llorada, 1 5 1 152; for lighting (ceras que arden), 178; for ofrenda (ceras de ofrenda), 178; position on household ofrenda, 159-160, 423 n.3 Candlesticks: arrangement in traditional ofrenda, 205; decoration of graves, 248-249; for ofrenda, 177; symbolism of, 227 Cannibalism, 57 Canonization, historical origin of, 47— 48 Canopies for decoration of graves, 248 Cantada y de tres ministros, 155 Capulincillo flower for sculpted graves, 263-266 Cargo system, 10, 411 Carnations in ofrenda, 175 Carrasco, Pedro, 39, 63, 66, 68-70 Caso, Alfonso, 54, 63 Castaneda, Carlos, 422 n.2 Caste system: in India, 4—6; in Mexico, Catholic-folk-pagan complex, defined, 11—12

Catholicism: marginality of cult of the dead, 357; modern secularization of, 375—376; national urban development, 413-416; parameters of synthesis and, 357-358; pre-Hispanic polytheism integrated with, 336—342; ranking of supernaturals, 314; similarities to pre-Hispanic polytheism, 83-84; as syncretic religious system, 81—82. See also Folk Catholicism Cazuela, 173; for ofrenda, 178 Cemetery: avoided by dead souls, 236— 237; disorder during most of year, 250-251; family graves, 239-240; La Llorada ceremonies, 150-151; mayordormia activities, 278; organization and arrangement, 237-239; sacred context of, 269-272; setting for decoration of graves, 236-246; Tlaxcalan unease around, 250 Ceremonial meal: for All Souls Day,

156-158; for day of souls in purgatory (January 5), 166; for posada, 167. See also Offerings for the dead; specific foods Chacualole, 172; arrangement in traditional ofrenda, 203 Chalchiuhtlicue, 181 Chalk for grave decoration, 263 Chalupas, 174 Chicharron en salsa verde, 173 Chichihuacuaco, 323, 341 Chichihualcuahuitl, 84; decoration of graves and, 273 Chichihuaquaco, 117, 216 Chicomecoatl, 181 Children (souls of dead): belief system for, 312; cult of the dead for, 60-61, 88; ofrendas for dead, 216; Todos Santos for, 139—143 China: Catholicism in, 39; polytheism

in, 54-55 Chiquihuite: for dead adults, 148-149; for household ofrenda, 178; for personal ofrenda, 290-291; socioreligious cycle, 292 Chiquihuite de agradecimiento, 291 Chiquihuite de pedimento, 291 Christianity: administrative and hierarchical organization, 51; ascendancy with modernization, 231-232; moral philosophy replaces rite and ceremony, 42; polytheistic elements, 4 1 42, 45—46; sacralization of community relations, 297—298; syncretism in, 15-16, 51, 404-405 Chnstianization of local religion, 4 1 4 416 Christmas cycle, 166—167; as sacrahzed period, 297-298 Chrysanthemums in ofrenda, 175 Churches: architecture and construction, 238—239, 429 nn.1-2, 430 n.5. See also Open chapels Cihuacoatl, 70 Class concepts: expressive array, 380— 381. See also Social stratification Clothing: arrangement in traditional ofrenda, 176, 204; dead children, 139; shopping for as expressive array, 383; symbolism of, 226-227

457

INDEX Cocoles, 171 Codice Telleriano-Remensis, 63—65, 7071; intensification rites, 71 Codex Mendoza, 74-75 Cofradi'a, 9 1 ; dead soul sponsorship, 2-77 Communal relationships: cemetery maintenance, 237; private rites, 2.79280; sacralization of, 297-300 Compadrazgo: as acculturative institu­ tion, 349; central and marginal ele­ ments, 12, 434 n.3; for cruces de parada y bendicion, 180-181; and cult of the dead, 91-92; as expressive domain, 390—391; grave decoration, 156; for highway deaths, 125-126; kinship units, 343; La Mahntzi leg­ end and, 233—234; luck as compo­ nent, 432 n . i ; mayordomia person­ nel support matrix, 281; national Catholicism and, 415; nonreciprocal ofrendas, 293; personal ofrendas for sponsorships, 294-297; reciprocal ofrendas, 293-294; recruitment for, 391; research methodology and, 433 n.3; role in Todos Santos, 4; sacrali­ zation and, 290-300, 433 n.5; secu­ larization of, 364-365, 376; shared ideology with cult of the dead, 325326; syncretic process, 82 Compadres de parada de cruz for acci­ dental deaths, 124 Componentes, 281 Compound houses, 186 Concrete for mausoleums, 245-246 "Conflict-enculturation theory of model involvement," 394 Conflict expression, 394 Consanguineal kin, rank of, 290 Conservas, 172 Consuegros, ofrendas for, 291 "Context of discovery," 332-333 "Context of verification," 332-333 Convergences: symmetry, asymmetry and universality, 349-353; in Tlaxcalan religion, 350-351 Conversion of Indians, 84-86 Cooked dishes and sauces, 172-173; symbolism of, 223-224 Copalcaxitls: arrangement in traditional

ofrenda, 205; decoration of graves, 248—250; for ofrenda, 177-178; po­ sition on household ofrenda, 159, 423 n.3; symbolism of, 227 Coptic church, 44 Coronas, 170 Cosas antediluvianas, 425 n.4 Cosmology and theology in pre-Hispanic polytheism, 68-69 Coy, Peter, 417 n.i (Introduction) Crop protection: dead as intermediaries for, 74. See also Agriculture; Fertility Cross as fertility symbol, 273 Cruces de animas, 96-97; for blessed souls on ofrenda, 180; in household altars, 190; symbolism, 228. See also Tree-crosses Cruces de parada: decoration of graves, 247-248; as fertility entreaty, 273; for ofrendas, 180—181; sculpted graves, 255; simple graves, 240 Cuadros and estampas, 178—179 Cuadros de animas, 179-180 Cuernos, 171 Cult of the dead: accident victims, 124127; activating mechanisms, 332336; adjacent with other sociorehgious domains, 325-326; afterlife concepts, 339—342; ancestor worship, 53—58; asymmetrical beliefs, 346; be­ havioral directives for, 309-310; be­ lief systems, 304-306, 332—336, 3 7 3 376; calendar for, 66-72; Catholic elements in, 12-13, 79-80, 336-342, 347—349; centered on Todos Santos, 4; ceremonial occasions besides To­ dos Santos, 67-69, 288-289, 3 o 8 > 316; concept of intercession, 49; con­ vergences of elements, 343—346; cosmological underpinnings, 66—72; de­ cline and disintegration, ιχ, 213, 359-376; dichotomization of public and private components, 356-357; differentiation of dead in, 124-143, 200; diffusion replaces syncretism, 399; division of labor by age, 95-96; dynamic model of, 332-334; ethnohistorical evidence for, 58—66; expres­ sive analysis of, 21—24, 377~397i external variables of activation, 335-

458

INDEX 336; final destination of dead, 69-70; ideology, 301-342, 373-376; Indians' emphasis on private aspects, 356; in­ tegration of pre-Hispanic and Catho­ lic components, 336-342, 347-349; integrative core of Tlaxcalan culture, n - 1 5 , 306-307; La Malintzi legend, 232-234; mayordomia system, 8 9 92; modernization and, 363-364, 373-376; operationalization of the components, 324-336; origin of, 5657, 343-346; parameters of synthesis, 356-358; part human-part divine as­ pects, 73-74; perceived as backward custom, 375; physical transformation of, 368-372; pre-Hispanic elements in, 12-13, 53—76, 82, 283-289, 336342, 347—349; private aspects, 9-10, 73-74, 97, 308, 356; propitiatory specialization, 114-143; provenance of elements, 343-353; public aspects, 7, 95-96, 275-300, 308; rites and ceremonies as compliance with moral order, 305—306; secularizing context, 364—365; sequence of changes in, 362-365; similarities with cult of the saints, 338-339; skepticism concern­ ing its efficacy, 210, 375, 427 n.26; as part of socioreligious core, 27—37, 305-307, 372; as spontaneous syn­ cretism, 401; symbolism of, 24-27, 72-76; symmetry, asymmetry and universality, 349-353; syncretized do­ mains, 12-13, 345—346; universal as­ pects, 351-352 Cult of the saints: Catholic structural order imposed, 79-80; cult of the dead ranks above, 279-280; develop­ mental cycle, 78-83; evolution of, 45-52; Medieval development, 52; patronage and, 49-50; precedes cult of the dead, 50-51; pre-Hispanic pol­ ytheism forgotten, 80-81; private rit­ uals, 9 - r o ; saints as ideological enti­ ties, 79; shares ideology with cult of the dead, 325, 338-339; similarities to Todos Santos, 82; as syncretic in­ stitution, 48-49, 82, 349 Dahlias, 246; decoration of graves, 252;

simple grave decoration, 253 Daisies, 246 "Days of the apostles," 85-86 Dead souls: corporeal form of, 3 1 1 312, 340-341; destination of, 116; differentiated roles of, 307-308, 337, 339—340; evil individuals, 321; as in­ termediaries with supernaturals, 307; like souls of saints, 313; phantom forms, 312; power and predisposi­ tions, 307, 324-325; propiation and supplication functions, 8-9; protective attributes, 347; return on Todos San­ tos, 311; saints and, 8—11; special occasions for return, 312; worship and propiation of, 337—338. See also Blessed souls Dead souls in purgatory: adult souls, 313; guardians of water and moun­ tains, 322; January 5 ceremony, 164166; pictures and icons, 180; repre­ sented on household altars, 194—196; veneration of, 313-314 Death: considered as passage to new existence, 340; deterministic attitude, 127-128; fatalistic acceptance of, 134—135; lack of control over, 315 Death-wake-burial complex, 134-135 Decoration of graves, 237-274; in acculturated communities, 143; to avert torrential rainfall, 316; cemetery set­ ting, 236-246; community prestige and, 263, 318; community variations, 249; competition in San Juan Totolac, 263; cost of, 370; decline of, 270-271, 364, 37Γ-372; decorative configurations, 249-252; designs and styles, 246-269; during month of Au­ gust, 142-143; as expressive domain, 249, 274, 389-391; importance of, 317-318; integration with other ele­ ments, 347-349; kinship units for, 156; modernizing context, 270-271, 364; patterns of adornment, 2 5 1 252; photographing of, xiii-xiv; reli­ gious interpretations, 269—274; sec­ ond in rank to ofrenda, 309; "smok­ ing" (sahuma), 250; Spanish-Catholic origins of, 270; symbolism of specific designs, 272-274

459

INDEX Demographics and demise of cult of the dead, 3 6 7 Desbarrancamiento, 1 2 5 Determinism, violent death and, 127— 128 Dia de Muertos, 98 Diffusion syncretism, 4 0 7 - 4 1 0 , 4 1 7 n . i (Chap. 1 ) Directives: behavioral, 309—310; compliance declines, 373—374; structuralideal domain, 304 Divutados or diputados, 2 8 1 Dog (tlachichi): barking at nights signifies dead souls, 1 1 7 , 3 2 3 ; as bearer of souls, 1 1 6 — 1 1 7 , 3 2 2 ; in La Malintzi legend, 2 3 2 - 2 3 4 , 3 2 1 Dominican order, impact on All SaintsAU Souls celebrations, 45 Dough confections, 1 7 0 - 1 7 1 ; symbolism of, 2 2 1 Dress as expressive array, 3 8 3 , 386 Drowning victims, cult of the dead for, 126 Drunkenness, disapproved during Todos Santos, 1 5 1 - 1 5 3 , 1 5 7 - 1 5 8 Dulces cubiertos, 1 7 2 Dulces de azucar, 1 7 1 Duran, Fray Diego de, 59—60, 64, 7 1 , 74, 1 0 6 ; description of Todos Santos, 8 6 - 8 8 ; tutelary mountain owners, 285

Earthenware containers, 1 7 8 ; decoration of graves in Atlihuetzian, 269 Eating and drinking during La Llorada, I5I-I53 Economic domain: baroque decoration of graves as sign of affluence, 2 5 4 - 2 5 5 ; conditions sacred rites and ceremonies, 364; cost-effectiveness considerations at ofrenda, 1 6 0 , 1 8 2 - 1 8 3 ; demise of cult of the dead, 367—368; emergence on par with socioreligious domain, 3 6 1 - 3 6 2 ; expenditure on Todos Santos, 1 1 9 — 1 2 1 ; ritual sponsorship and, 3 3 - 3 4 , 92; secularization and, 3 6 0 - 3 6 1 ; traditions sacrificed for, 4 2 1 n.8 El Charro Negro, 3 1 9

El Cuatlapanga: children and infants as intermediaries, 60, 1 4 2 ; Cuahuixmatla ceremonies for, 28 6; favors strong and courageous men, 3 1 8 ; as master of elements, 2 2 9 - 2 3 0 ; prevents hailstorms, 3 2 1 - 3 2 2 ; punishment by, 305, 3 1 5 ; San Lorenzo as Christian counterpart, 61—62; symbolism, 3 1 8 ; tezitlazcs honored, 3 2 0 - 3 2 1 Elites in Tlaxcala: expressive behavior, 3 9 4 - 3 9 5 ; transitional ofrendas of, 2 1 0 Enchanted places, 3 5 Enchiladas, 1 7 3 ; as lowliest offering, 2 1 9 Encomenderos, 9 8 - 9 9 Encomienda, 30, 3 2 Escorial manuscript, 6 2 - 6 4 Ethnographic summary of contemporary Tlaxcala, 3 3 - 3 7 Evans-Pritchard, 26 Expression: as force in ofrenda arrangement, 1 9 8 ; importance in cultural life, 2 0 - 2 1 ; patterns of, 2 3 - 2 4 . See also Idiosyncratic expression Expressive analysis of the cult of the dead, 4, 2 0 - 2 4 , 3 7 7 - 3 9 7 Expressive array: attitudes and loci, 3 7 7 3 8 5 ; defined, 2 1 , 3 7 9 ; inherent form, 3 7 8 ; shared forms of, 3 7 9 - 3 8 0 ; socioreligious context, 3 8 1 - 3 8 2 ; structurally motivated form, 378 Expressive behavior: causes for, 3 9 3 ; classification, 3 9 1 - 3 9 7 ; decline of, 3 7 0 Extended family household: as center for Todos Santos, 1 2 1 ; incidence in Tlaxcala, 3 3 - 3 4 External variables in efficacy of ideology, 325

Factories closed during Todos Santos, 120-121 Faena, 1 5 5 ; cemetery maintenance, 2 3 7 Family structure and cult of the dead, 1 4 15 Fatalistic acceptance of death, 1 3 4 - 1 3 5 Fertility and cult of the dead, 2 8 3 - 2 8 4 ; supernaturals associated with, 319— 320 Fiesta de los muertos, pre-Hispanic celebration, 5 9 - 6 0 460

INDEX Fiscales for cemetery arrangement, 237 Flanes, 172 Floreadas, 171 Flowers: arrangement on simple graves, 253-254; commercial production of, 247; in containers atTepeyango, 261; decoration of graves, 246-247; exact standardization on niched graves, 2 6 8 269; local cultivation declines, 121; mounded grave decoration, 260; on ofrenda, 175-176; rank in importance for decoration of graves, 251-252; symbolism of, 225; forTodos Santos,

Galletas de muertos, 172 Gallitos de pepita, 171, 203 Gardenias in ofrenda, 175 Gelatinas, 172 Gladioli, 175 Gofditas, 174 "Grammatical" change in ofrenda structure, 426 n.3 Graves, types of, 239-246 "Great feast of humbling," 65 Greco-Roman gods, cult of the saints and, 45-46, 48-50 Greek church, 44 Guardians of water and mountain, 284 Guayabates, 172 Guided syncretism: characteristics, 399400; in Christianity, 52; conditions for, 403-404; development of, 17-18; Franciscan friars' policy with Indians, 77-78; origins of term, 6; religious aspects, 81-82 Guzman, Eulalia, 57

121

Folk Catholicism, 7-8; crystallization of, 110-113; decoration of graves, 270272; disappearance of magic-religious elements, 231-232; history and background, 17-18; ideology of, 428 n.13; local religion and, 411-413; in Mesoamerica, 410-416; pagan characteristics, 13-15, 428 n . n ; particular saints for, 196; public and private aspects, 412; rift with orthodox Catholicism, 101-102; sacralization mechanisms, 299—300; Todos Santos development, 94-95; village centeredness, 107-108 "Folk illnesses," 420 n.4 Food offerings to dead. See Offerings to the dead Four-year pilgrimage, 312—3 3 3; afterlife concept, 341 Franciscan friars: control of Indians religious life, 77-78; efforts in Tlaxcala, 30-31; impact on syncretism, 356; role in syncretic synthesis, 17-18; second generation of, 86-87; secularization, 89-90, 106-110; as sociorehgious administrators, 99 Friends, sacralization and, 290 Frith, 26 Fruits and vegetables, 174; arrangement in classic traditional ofrenda, 201; symbolism of, 224-225 Frutas confitadas, 172 Functionahsm, symbolism and, 25-26 Galletas cuatas, 172; for personal ofrenda, 294; symbolism of, 222—223

Hacienda, 32,43-44 Hallucinogenic plants, 103 Haute bourgeoisie, 377, 382-383; expressive domain, 21, 387-388 Heart with cross symbol, origins of, 271 Hebrew tradition, as source of Christianity, 405 Hell: absence of concept in Tlaxcalan religion, 147-148, 319, 341-342; role in belief system, 313 Hempel, Carl G., 332 Hermandade de las animas de la buena muerte, 93-95, 283-284 Hermandades: cult of the dead and, 9 0 91; dead soul sponsorship, 277; for pilgrimages, 193 Herrera (y Tordesillas), Antonio de, 57 Herskovits, Melville J., 78 Highway and road construction in Tlaxcala, 367 Highway deaths: cult of the dead for, 125-126; kinds of offerings for, 219 Hinduism, 406 Hojaldra colorada, 170 Hojaldras: arrangement in traditional ofrenda, 202; for kinds of dead, 219;

461

INDEX Hojaldras (cont.) varieties of, 1 7 0 . See also Pan de muertos

ferences with Mestizos, 1 1 4 ; exploitation by priests, 1 0 7 ; shame and denial of past, 3 7 5 ; transition to Mestizo culture, 3 1 - 3 2 , 3 6 0 - 3 6 1 Industrialization in Tlaxcala, history of, 32 Infanticide, 4 Z 1 n.7 Infant mortality, 13Z—134; decline in, 3 6 7 - 3 6 8 , 4 2 1 n.6 Infants (Dead): belief system for, 3 1 2 ; ceremonies, 1 3 2 - 1 3 8; dead rank highest in pantheon, 3 1 6 ; as intermediaries with supernaturals, 1 3 5 - 1 3 6 ; ofrendas for, 2 1 6 Infants sucked by tlahuelpuchi, 1 3 3—134, 1 3 7 — 1 3 8 , 3 1 6 ; actual cause of death, 4 2 1 n.7; pagan-European convergence, 3 3 8 ; June 26 rite against, 1 4 1 ; souls of dead infants as protection against, 3 2 1 ; victims ignored during Todos Santos, 146

Holy Week as sacralized period, 2 9 7 - 2 9 8 Homemade offerings for Todos Santos; decline of use, 1 2 1 - 1 2 2 . See also specific offerings Honey, 1 7 5 Household protectors, dead as, 84 House structure in Tlaxcala, 1 8 6 Huauhtli. See Amaranth Huehueteotl. See Xiuhtecutli Hueymiccaylhuitl, 6 0 - 6 1 , 3 4 7 ; dates of, 8 8 - 8 9 ; rites and ceremonies, 7 0 - 7 1 Huitzilopochtli, 63, 70, 7 2 ; early festivals for, 59 Humanistic bias in anthropology, 2 5 - 2 7 . See also Psychology Human Relations Area File, 3 5 1 - 3 5 2 Human-supernatural covenant, 4 1 1 — 4 1 2 ; belief in, 1 4 ; cult of the dead as, 306; loss of faith in, 428 n . 1 4 Hyperdulia, 4 8 - 4 9 Iconography in Tlaxcala, 1 7 9 - 1 8 1 ; symbolism of, 228 Ideational domain, 3 0 3 - 3 0 4 Ideological domain, 302—304; latent and manifest beliefs, 3 3 1 - 3 3 2 Ideology, contending ideologies in syncretism, 3 5 5; of cult of the dead, 3 o 1 3 4 2 ; for dead infants and children, 2 1 7 ; defined, 3 0 1 ; efficacy of, 3 2 4 3 2 8 ; injunctions and commands, 3 0 4 3 1 0 ; modernizing context, 364; operationalization of, 3 3 3 - 3 3 4 ; secularization and, 3 6 1 - 3 6 2 ; structural domain and,327-328 Idiosyncratic expression: decoration of graves, 249; defined, 3 9 2 ; ofrenda arrangement, 2 1 4 - 2 1 5 Iglesias de visita, 89—90,99-100 Imago mundi, xiii, 1 1 Imperatives as key to ideology, 3 2 5 - 3 2 6 Inca Indians, 434 n.2 Incensarios for ofrenda, 1 7 8 India, syncretism in, 406 Indians: conversion to Catholicism, 30; cultural achievement, 1 0 9 ; decline of traditional communities, 1 1 4 - 1 1 5 ; dif-

Integrative core of Tlaxcalan culture, 306—307; cult of the dead as part of, 3 2 4 - 3 2 5 ; economic domain and, 3 6 1 ; syncretism and, 399 Intellectual syncretism, 405 Intercession, concept of, 49 Interest groups, social stratification and, 384-385 Interpersonal relationships: facilitated by cult of the dead, 3 0 8 - 3 0 9 ; idealized during Todos Santos, 1 6 4 ; role in cult of the dead, 25 Involvement concept, 3 9 3 - 3 9 4 Izcalli, 5 8 - 5 9 Jarros for ofrendas, 1 7 8 Jesus Christ, manifestations of on household altars, 1 9 2 , 1 9 4 J/cama, 1 7 4 Jicaras for ofrenda, 1 7 8 Kinship units in rural Tlaxcala. See Compadrazgo Kinsmen: affinal, 290; handling burial of discouraged, 2 5 0 , 2 9 3 - 2 9 4 ; offerings to dead, 2 1 9 - 2 2 0 ; presence at tlahuelpuchi limpia forbidden, 1 3 7 - 1 3 8 ; reciprocal ofrendas for, 2 9 3 - 2 9 4 Kirchhoff, Paul, 54, 66

462

INDEX Labor migration: impact on ofrenda preparation, 1 8 3 ; increase in, 367; Todos Santos as homecoming, 1 1 8 — 1 2 0 Ladder system of mayordomi'a, 2 8 7 - 2 8 8 La Despedida, 158—160; convergent beliefs, 3 5 1 ; decline of, 370; ofrenda during, 2 3 4 ; symbolism of, 3 1 6 Ladrillon, 2 4 2 - 2 4 3 La Llorada, 1 4 9 - 1 5 4 ; belief system for, 3 1 2 ; committee for, 238—239; as convergent beliefs, 3 5 1 ; decline of, 370; as expressive domain, 390; mayordomi'a role in, 288; pre-Hispanic counterpart, 2 7 0 ; symbolism of, 3 1 6 La Llorona, 3 1 9 , 3 2 1 La Malintzi volcano, 27; children and infants as intermediaries, 60, 1 4 2 ; decline of belief in, 3 7 5 ; fondness for children, 3 1 8 ; legend of, 232—234; mansion for dead children and infants, 320; as master of elements, 2 2 9 - 2 3 0 ; prominence as supernatural personage, 2 3 0 - 2 3 1 ; punishment by, 3 0 3 , 3 1 5 ; spring at Cuahuixmatla, 286; symbolism of, 3 1 7 Lange, Gottfried, 396 Las animas benditas del purgatorio, 92, 2 8 4 - 2 8 5 , 4 3 2 n.3 Las animas benditas de todos santos, 93 Las animas de la buena muerte, belief system, 3 1 4

Liquids: arrangement in traditional ofrenda, 2.03; symbolism of, 226 Liquor, 1 7 5 ; arrangement in traditional ofrenda, 2 0 3 ; symbolism of, 22.6 Lisos, 1 7 1 Listones, 1 7 7 Living room (sala) of upwardly mobile families, 4 2 7 n.8 Llevadas a misa mayordomi'a, 2 8 2 - 2 8 3 Local religion, Catholicism and, 411— 4 1 6 . See also Folk Catholicism Los ninos limbos, 1 3 2 - 1 3 8 Lost objects, patron saints for, 1 6 6 Luck: and compadrazgo system, 4 3 2 n . i ; concept of in Tlaxcala, 4 2 2 n . i Madrono tree, 263 Madsen, William, 1 6 Magic and religious systems, syncretism and, 1 5 - 2 0 , 4 0 6 - 4 0 7 Mai aire, 3 5 Manifest beliefs, 3 3 0 Manposteria for niched graves, 2 4 1 , 243 Marianism, 4 8 - 4 9 . See also Virgin Martyr, origins of, 4 6 - 4 7 Matlalcihua, 3 1 9 , 3 2 1 Matlalcue, 286 Matlalcueyec, 286 Mausoleums, 239, 2 4 5 - 2 4 6 ; decoration, 2 5 8 - 2 5 9 ; in Tepeyango, 2 6 1 Mayans of Yucatan, 66 Mayordomi'a system: administrative aspects, 2 8 7 - 2 8 8 ; cemetery repair and improvement, 2 3 8 - 2 3 9 ; central importance of, 1 2 ; ceremonial breakfasts, 282; complementary functions, 278; cult of the dead and, 1 0 , 89—92, 282, 3 2 5 ; dead soul sponsorship, 2 7 6 - 2 7 7 ; decline in prestige of, 2 7 6 ; division of labor, 278, 2 8 0 - 2 8 3 ; durability of, 3 7 2 ; duties during La Llorada, 1 5 2 1 5 3 ; expressive behavior during, 3 9 4 395; and folk Catholicism, 4 1 1 ; intermediary role between community and church, 4 3 2 n . 1 ; labor migrants in, 1 2 0 ; mass f o r T o d o s Santos, 100—101, 1 4 5 , 1 5 5 ; national Catholicism and, 4 1 4 ; nombramiento, 282; personal ofrendas for, 296; recibimiento, 282; refrescos or tezentlalils, 2 8 2 ; seculari-

"Last resort," cult of the dead as, 373— 374 Latent beliefs, 3 3 0 - 3 3 1 Latria, 4 8 - 4 9 Leisure activities, expressive analysis, 394 Lemons and limes, 1 7 4 Leon, Martin de, 1 0 5 Levi-Strauss, Claude, 25 Libros de cofradi'a, 90; on mayordomi'a, 2 7 6 ; Todos Santos crystallization, 1 0 1 Libros de cuadrante, 90 Libros de fabrica, 90; church construction, 429 n . i Lightning victims, ceremonies for, 1 2 6 Limbo, 1 3 2 - 1 3 8 , 1 4 7 ; chichihuacuaco as, 3 4 1 ; for infant deaths, 3 1 3 Limpia: functions of, 420 n.4; for murderers and murder victims, 129—130; for tlahuelpuchi death, 1 3 7 Lions of La Malintzi, 2 3 2 - 2 3 4 , 3 2 1 463

INDEX Mayordomi'a system (cont.) zation, of, 3 7 6 ; socializing and interaction, 2 7 5 - 2 8 9 ; supplications to dead by, 3 1 8 , 3 70; syncretic process, 82; types and functions of, 275—280; vigils or masses, 1 0 0 - 1 0 1 , 1 4 5 , 1 5 5 , 282-283 Mayordomfa de las benditas animas del purgatorio, 2 8 4 - 2 8 5 , 4 3 2 n.3 Mayordomi'a de la velacion nocturna, 113 Mayordomos, 2 8 1 Medical and medicinal practices of Indians, 103—104 Melons, 1 7 4 Memelas, 1 7 4 , 224 Merino, 1 5 5 ; cemetery arrangement, 2 3 7 ; cemetery repair and improvement, 239 Mesoamerica: pre-Hispanic history, 53; spiritual conquest, 106—110 Mestizo culture: ethnic differences with Indians, 1 1 4 ; Indian transition to in Tlaxcala, 3 1 - 3 2 , 3 6 0 - 3 6 1 Metal objects as protection against tlahuelpuchi, 1 4 1 Mexican constitution ( 1 8 5 7 ) , 32 Mexican independence from Spain (1821), 32 Mexican Revolution of 1 9 1 0 , 3 6 3 - 3 6 4 Miccailhuitontli, 5 9 - 6 1 ; as celebration of dead children, 70; dates of, 88; feast, 64 Mictecacihuatl, 7 1 Mictlan (place of the dead), 7 1 , 234 Mictlantecutli, 7 0 - 7 1 , 234 Milk, 1 7 4 ; ofrenda for dead infants, 2 1 6 "Misplaced concreteness" fallacy, 1 4 6 , 340; symbolism of ofrenda, 2 1 5 - 2 1 6 M o c o de pavo, 1 2 1 Model behavior, 3 7 2 Modernization: cemeteries separate from atriums as sign, 238; defined, 3 5 9 - 3 6 0 ; effect on ofrenda arrangement, 2 1 1 ; impact on cult of the dead, 3 6 3 - 3 6 4 ; impact on ideological efficacy, 335— 3 3 6 ; syncretism and, 4 0 7 - 4 1 0 . See also Secularization Molcajetes, 1 7 8 Mole de huajolote, 1 7 2 - 1 7 3 ; arrange-

ment in traditional ofrenda, 203; symbolism and origin, 223 Mole de panza, 424 n.1 Mole de pipidn, 1 7 3 ; arrangement in traditional ofrenda, 2 0 3 - 2 0 4 ; symbolism of, 223 Mole poblano, 424 n.1 Mole pneto, 1 7 3 , 420 n.3; arrangement in traditional ofrenda, 203; symbolism of, 223 Mole tlaxcalteca, 424 n.1 Monolatry: Catholicism as, 39; defined, 9; in rural Tlaxcala, 4 1 2 — 4 1 3 ; as syncretism, 3 5 0 - 3 5 1 Monotheism, polytheistic origins, 3 5 2 Montaigne, 24 Morning glory, 1 0 3 Mortality: adult, 1 4 4 ; children, 1 3 9 . See also Infant mortality Motolinfa, Fray Toribio de Benavente, 58—59, 62, 7 3 , 1 0 6 ; conversion of Tlaxcalan Indians, 8 4 - 8 7 ; on food offerings, 2 2 1 - 2 2 2 Mounded graves, 2 5 2 - 2 5 3; in San Francisco Tepeyango, 2 5 9 - 2 6 1 Mountains as religious symbols, 2 2 9 230. See also Tutelary mountain owners Mudejar architectural style, 268, 4 3 1 n.6 Munecos d e p a n , 1 7 0 - 1 7 1 Munos Camargo, Diego, 5 6 - 5 9 , 6 6 - 6 7 Nagel, Ernest, 3 2 7 Nahual, 36; Castaneda's concept, 4 2 2 n.2; early descnpton, 1 0 8 - 1 0 9 ; souls of dead, 3 1 9 ; as totally pre-Hispanic figure, 338 Nalgadas, 1 3 5 Natural expression defined, 3 9 1 - 3 9 4 Natural order: suicide as contravention of, 1 3 0 — 1 3 2 ; violent death as contravention, 127—129 Need as factor for change, 3 5 5 Niched graves, 239, 2 4 1 - 2 4 6 ; built in pairs, 2 4 5 ; chapel style, 242—244; decoration of, 2 5 6 - 2 5 9 ; dome style, 2 4 2 244; plaster and whitewash, 244; resemblance to church architecture, 272; Santa Maria Atlihuetzian, 2 6 6 - 2 6 9 ; simple style, 2 4 2 ; variations, 2 4 4 - 2 4 5 464

INDEX N i x t a m a l martajado, 1 7 3 N o m b r a m i e n t o , mayordomia, 2 8 2 Nonkinsmen, presence required at tlahuelpuchi limpia, 1 3 7 - 1 3 8 Nonresidential extended family : cemetery plots, 2 3 9 ; ofrendas for, 295 Nopalitos, 1 7 4 N o r t h , dead souls return f r o m , 3 1 2 Nuclear family: chiquihuites exchanged, 2 9 5 ; labor migrants as heads, 1 2 0 ; as social unit in rural T l a x c a l a , 3 3 - 3 4 Nunez, J o s e C o r o n a , 64 Ocoxochitl (pine flower), 1 7 6 ; fertility associations o f , 2 2 7 ; not used in cemetery, 2 4 7 ; symbolism o f , 2 2 6 Octava of T o d o s Santos, 1 6 3 - 1 6 4 ; absence at tlahuelpuchi death, 1 3 8 ; household rite, 1 6 3 ; length o f , 424 n.4 Offerings: acculturated households, 1 8 5 ; f o r all the dead, 2 2 0 - 2 2 9 ; arrangement in classic ofrenda, 2 0 0 - 2 0 6 ; bread and confections, 1 7 0 - 1 7 1 ; buried with dead, 8 4 - 8 6 , 1 0 5 - 1 0 6 , 3 2 1 ; candied fruits, preserves and gelatins, 1 7 2 ; for children, 1 3 9 - 1 4 0 ; cigarettes and matches, 1 8 1 ; clothing and utilitarian implements, 1 7 6 - 1 7 7 ; cooked dishes and sauces, 1 7 2 - 1 7 3 ; cult of the saints, 2 4 8 - 2 4 9 ; cult paraphernalia and containers, 1 7 7 - 1 7 8 ; decoration of graves, 2 5 0 ; decorations and adornments, 1 7 7 ; delicacies and treats, 1 7 3 - 1 7 4 ; differentiation of souls, 2 1 6 - 2 2 0 ; division of labor for, 1 2 2 , 1 2 4 , 4 2 0 n.3; during early T o d o s Santos, 8 5 - 8 6 ; flowers and plants, 1 7 5 - 1 7 6 ; fruits and vegetables, 1 7 4 ; homemade better than bought, 1 8 2 - 1 8 3 ; infant deaths, 1 3 6 ; liquors and liquids, 1 7 4 - 1 7 5 ; optional, 1 8 4 1 8 5 ; pictures, images and statutes, 1 7 8 - 1 7 9 ; preferential, 1 8 4 - 1 8 5 ; preHispanic , 8 4 - 8 6 , 1 8 1 - 1 8 2 ; prescriptive, 1 8 4 - 1 8 5 ; primicias, 1 8 1 ; profusion in baroque ofrenda, 2 0 8 - 2 0 9 ; profusion in transitional ofrenda, 2 1 0 ; provenance and importance o f , 1 8 2 1 8 6 ; sequence and separation by kinds of dead, 2 1 8 ; Serna records, 1 0 5 - 1 0 6 ; sweet confections and cookies, 1 7 1 -

465

1 7 2 ; symbolic importance, 3 1 7 ; traditional households, 1 8 5 ; transitional households, 1 8 5 ; varieties, 1 7 0 - 1 8 2 ; white and blue tortillas, 1 8 1 O f r e n d a : acculturated households, 2 1 1 2 1 4 ; arrangement variations, 2 1 4 - 2 1 5 ; baroque traditional ofrenda, 207—209; categories and distributions, 169—186; changes f r o m 1 9 6 0 - 1 9 8 3 , x i i - x i v ; classic traditional arrangement, 199— 2 0 6 ; communal pride in, 2 1 4 - 2 1 5 ; composition, 1 9 7 - 1 9 8 ; cost of classictraditional, 3 7 0 - 3 7 1 ; decoration and arrangement, 1 9 7 - 2 1 5 ; demise of classic traditional, x i i - x i v , 3 6 5 - 3 6 6 , 3 7 1 , 4 3 5 n . 3 ; differentiation f o r kinds of dead, 2 0 0 - 2 0 1 , 2 1 6 - 2 2 0 ; dismantling, 1 6 1 - 1 6 3 ; effectiveness o f , 3 0 9 ; elaborateness as sign of secularization, 1 8 3 1 8 4 ; expressive behavior with, 3 0 6 ; as expressive domain, 389—391; fertility and intensification aspects, 2 3 4 - 2 3 5 ; government sponsorship o f , 3 7 1 ; household, 1 5 9 - 1 6 0 ; idiosyncratic expression o f , 1 9 8 ; increasing importance of token satellite ofrenda, 2 0 7 ; integration with other elements, 3 4 7 3 49; for L a Llorada, r 5 3, 1 5 8; modernizing context, 3 6 4 ; nonreciprocal, 1 5 8 ; pre-Hispanic origin o f , 3 4 5 - 3 4 6 , 3 4 8 ; prescriptive offerings, 1 7 0 , 2 0 8 ; pyramid configuration, 2 0 1 , 2 1 0 , 2 2 9 2 3 0 ; quality o f , 1 1 7 - 1 1 8 ; ranked above decoration of graves, 273—274; reciprocal, 1 5 8 ; as sacralization mechanism, 2 8 9 - 2 9 7 ; secularization o f , 3 6 5 ; smelled and touched by dead souls, 3 1 2 ; as status symbol, 4 2 6 n . i ; symbolic importance o f , 2 1 5 — 2 3 5 , 3 1 7 ; syncretism o f , 2 3 0 - 2 3 5 , 348—349; token in satellite households, 1 9 8 , 2 0 6 2 0 7 ; as tourist attraction, 1 9 7 , 3 7 1 ; traditional examples described, 1 8 3 ; in transitional household, 1 8 3 , 2 0 9 — 2 1 1 ; varieties of offerings, 1 7 0 — 1 8 2 . See also Personal ofrendas Ofrenda de primer muerto, 2 0 5 , 3 1 3 , 348 " O l d adult," 1 4 4 Ollas f o r ofrenda, 1 7 8 Ololiuhqui, 1 0 3

INDEX Omeyocan, 69 Onyx for vases, 2 4 7 Open chapels, 2 5 9 - 2 6 1 , 4 2 9 n. 3 Operationalization defined, 3 3 2 - 3 3 3 Oranges and mandarins, 1 7 4 ; arrangement in classic traditional ofrenda, 2 0 1 Orderliness of Tlaxcalan culture, 427 n.io Organillo for decoration of graves, 248 Our Lady of Carmel, symbolism of, 228 Our Lady of Light, symbolism of, 228 Padrinos de parada de cruz de entierro, 125—126 Pagan magical complex, 96, 1 1 1 Pagan supernaturals, 3 1 4 Palafoxian style of architecture, 2 3 8 - 2 3 9 , 429 n.2, 4 3 0 n.5 Palafox y Mendoza, Juan de, 242, 429 n.2 Palerm, Angel, 39 Palmatonas, 1 7 8 Palm trees in ofrenda, 1 7 6 Pan de muerto: for dead children, 2 1 7 ; for dead infants, 2 1 6 ; dough ingredients, 420 n.2; homemade vs. bought, 1 8 2 ; importance of, 1 2 2 ; offering for all the dead, 2 2 0 ; peak exchange of, 1 6 0 — 1 6 1 ; symbolism of shapes, 2 2 0 2 2 1 ; in token satellite ofrenda, 2 0 6 2 0 7 ; variations of, 1 7 0 , 2 0 1 - 2 0 2 Pafios, 1 7 7 Papel picado for ofrenda, 1 7 7 Papel recortado for ofrenda, 1 7 7 Paper flowers: decoration of graves, 248; on mausoleums, 258 Papier-mache ornaments, 1 7 7 Parada de cruz de entierro, 1 2 5 - 1 2 6 ; souls in purgatory, 1 6 5 Parochial archives: survey of, 8 9 - 9 2 ; Todos Santos crystallization, 1 0 1 - 1 0 2 Parochial system, Palafoxian inauguration, 242 Paso y Troncoso, Francisco del, 1 0 2 - 1 0 3 , hi Patri-neolocal residences, 1 8 6 Patron saint, 4 9 - 5 0 ; cult of, 92; on household altars, 1 9 1 - 1 9 2 , 1 9 4 ; less important than dead souls, 3 3 7 Pears, 1 7 4

Peasant ideology, 1 1 8 - 1 1 9 Pedimento: concept of, 2 9 6 - 2 9 7 ; sacralization periods, 2 9 8 - 2 9 9 Pellizcadaas, 1 7 3 - 1 7 4 Pentecost Monday, 42 Perdida del alma, 35 Personal ofrendas, 2 9 0 - 2 9 7 ; baskets exchanged, 1 5 7 - 1 5 8 ; compadrazgo network and, 2 9 0 - 2 9 2 ; contents of, 2 9 4 297; household ofrenda as model, 3 1 8 ; individual males and females, 294; kinship groups, 2 9 5 ; male-female couples, 2 9 4 - 2 9 5 ; nonreciprocal, 292—293, 297; peak exchange of personal ofrendas, 1 6 0 - 1 6 1 ; pedimento, 2 9 6 - 2 9 7 ; reciprocal, 292—293, 297; ritual kinship and religious groups, 2 9 5 - 2 9 6 ; socioreligious cycle, 292; territorial units, 296 Pescado con torta de habas, 1 6 3 ; symbolism of, 2 2 3 , 428 n . I T 2 Petates for ofrenda, 1 7 7 ; traditional arrangement, 204 Pezunas de sal, 1 7 1 Photography for study of change, xii-xiv Pictures: arrangement pattern for, 1 9 0 ; on retables, 189. See also Cuadros and estampas Pilgrimage Christs, Virgins and saints, 193-195 Pineapples, 1 7 4 Pine tree: special properties of, 4 2 1 n.8; symbolism of, 2 2 7 Plants: decoration of graves, 247; as decorations for ofrenda, 1 7 7 Play: expressive array, 379, 3 8 2 - 3 8 3 ; as natural expression, 392 Plutarch on syncretism, 1 6 - 1 7 Polylatry in Christianity, 4 1 7 n.1 (Chap. 1) Polytheism: All Saints Day as, 3 8 - 3 9 ; common origins for, 4 1 8 n.z; Indo-European, 1 5 - 1 6 , 4 1 , 4 3 - 4 4 ; single origin of, 3 5 2 . See also Pre-Hispanic polytheism Ponche, 1 7 2 Pontifex Maximus, 405 Population explosion in Tlaxcala, 3 6 7 368 Posadas, 1 6 6 - 1 6 7 ; mayordormia admin466

INDEX Reichenbach, Hans, 332 Religious art for ofrenda, 179 Religious domain: as driving force in Mesoamerican culture, 54-55; orderliness in, 427 n.io; syncretism and, 1 5 20; in Tlaxcala, 35. See also Folk Catholicism; Local religion Repartimiento system, 30 Research methodology: data gathering, 5-6; efficacy of ideology and structural domain, 326—328, 433 n.2; objectivity and, IX; origins and convergences of traits and complexes, 434 n . i ; parochial archives, 89-92; questionable sources, 420 n.i, 422 n.2; terminology of analysis, 301-304; theoretical considerations, 15-27 Respeto, sacralization and, 290 Retable: in acculturated household, 212— 213; in Athhuetzian, 267; consolas and repisas, 189; for household altar, 188-

istration, 288 Potatoes, 174 Pre-Hispanic artifacts: arrangement in traditional ofrenda, 204; stone idols, 181; symbolism of, 228-229 Pre-Hispanic culture, documentation of, 20

Pre-Hispanic polytheism: concept of afterlife, 339-340; cult of the dead, 8-9, 53-76, 283-289; decoration of graves and, 270-272; disappearance of elements with modernization, 231-23 2; hell concept lacking, 147-148; integration with Catholicism, 82-84, 336342, 418 n.5; sacralization of community, 297-298; structure and social organization, 68-69; theology and cosmology, 72-76 Prescott, William H., 51 Priests, rift with local religious hierarchy, 106 Primicias, 162; arrangement in traditional ofrenda, 181, 204; symbolism of, 228 Primus inter pares, 9, 417 n.i (Chap. 1); Catholicism and, 39 "Profane periods," counterbalance to sacralization, 299—300 Provenance in syncretic process, 343-358 Psychological variables: in cult of the dead, 327-328; of social change, 427 n.9 Psychology and anthropological research, 433 n.2 Puebla, religious art production in, 179 Pulque, 174-175 Purgatory, 147. See also Dead souls in purgatory Quality of life in modern Tlaxcala, 368 Quechol (Indian historian), 116, 118, 216—217

Quecholli, 58 Questionnaires for research, 5; on demise of cult of the dead, 374-375,434 n.4 Rain water, 174 Recibimiento, mayordormia, 282 Reciprocity, for personal ofrendas, 292293 Recruitment for compadrazgo, 393-394

190

Retratos de difuntos, 181 Reville, Jean, 16 Reyes, Luis, 89-91 Rites and ceremonies in Tlaxcala, 3 5 Ritual sponsorship. See Compadrazgo River headwaters as location of souls, 323 Roberts, John M., 6—8, 19-23, 39, 377388,394-397 Rosary for decoration of graves, 250 Rosquetes, 170; arrangement in traditional ofrenda, 202; in token satellite ofrenda, 206-207 Rosquillas, 170 Ruiz de Alarcon, Hernando, 102-104; lack of reference to Todos Santos, 109111; on secular priests, 107—108 Sacralization: of communal relationships, 297—300; interpersonal relationships, 372; mechanisms of, 289—300 Sacred objects, 3 5 Sacred precinct complex, 188—191; cemetery as, 269-272; decoration in baroque ofrenda, 209; as microcosm of cult of the dead, 234—235 Sahagun, Fray Bernardo de, 55-56, 5 8 59, 106; on cannibalism, 57; on dead

467

INDEX Sahagun, Fray Bernardo de (cont.) in battle, 72; tutelary mountain owners, 285-286 Saint Augustine, 48-49, 405 Saint Isidore, 286-287 Saint James, 286 Saint Jude, 166 Saint Martin, 286 Saint Michael, 286 Saints: dead souls and, 8-11; emergence of concept, 47; first canonization, 47; in folk Catholicism, 196; fond of souls of dead children, 319-3 20; pagan supernatural and, 336-342; preChristian origins, 46-47; propiation and supplication functions, 8-9; represented on household altars, 192-195 Saint Thomas Aquinas, 405 Salvage ethnography, ix, xii-xiu Samhain celebration, 43 San Bartolome Cuahuixmatla, 284—285 San Dionisio Yauhquemehcan, 267 San Francisco Tepeyango, mounded graves, 259-261 San Isidro Buen Suceso, 94, 117 San Juan Totolac, church construction in, 430 n.5 San Lorenzo: August 10 as feast day, 61; similarities with El Cuatlapanga, 322 San Maria Atlihuetzian, graves destroyed by modernization, 431 n.7 San Miguel del Milagro, 433 n.4 San Salvador Tzompantepec, 94 Santa Maria Atlihuetzian, 97, 266—269 Satellite households: independence achieved with acculturation, 212-213; ofrendas in, 198, 426 n.2; token ofrenda arrangement, 206-207 Scientific explanations of symbolism, 2 5 2-7 Sculpted graves, 252—253; basic designs, 263-266; designs on, 254-256; double and triple variations, 255-256, 2 6 5 266; San Juan Totolac, 262-266; as tourist attraction, 266 Secularization: cult of the dead, 364-365; defined, 359-360; demographics, 367368; economics as factor, 199-121, 367—368; effect on ofrenda arrangement, 211; ideological component,

335-336, 361-362; increasing pace of, 115-116; loss of faith in human-supernatural covenant, 428 n. 14; open chapel construction, 259-260; structural context, 360-361; syncretism and, 398-410 Secular priests: Franciscan friars and, 106-110; as religious leaders, 98-100 Serna, Jacinto dela, 102-105; lack of references to Todos Santos, 110-111; on secular priests, 107-109 La Serpiente Emplumada, 319 Sikhism, 406 Simple graves, 239-240; decorations for, 252-256; design variations, 254 Sin in folk Catholicism, 147 Social stratification: baroque ofrenda as status, 207-208, 426 n . i ; expressive array and, 378-380; expressive domains, 387; leisure activities and, 384; mayordomia as manifestation of, 276; ofrenda arrangement and, 427 n. 8 Sociocultural change: limited range theory, 359; modernization of, ix; pace of, xiii Socioreligious symbol, defined, 26-27 Souls. See Blessed souls; Dead souls Soursops, 174; ofrendas for dead infants, 216

Southeast Asia, polytheism in, 54 Southern European Catholics, 39 Spanish-Catholic component of Todos Santos, 38-52 Spanish Conquest, role in syncretic synthesis, 19 Spiritual conquest of Tlaxcala, 84-85, 106-110

Spontaneous syncretism: characteristics, 399-400; Christianity as, 405-406; conditions for, 402-403; history and background, 18-19 Spring of Cuahuixmatla, 284-285, 322, 33»>345 Starr, Frederick, u 4-118, 232 Statues: on ofrenda, 179-180; on retables, 189—190 "Story of the three martyred children," 266-267 Structural domain, 302-304; cult of the dead, 325; defined, 301; symbolism

468

INDEX and, 2 5 - 2 6 ; syncretism and acculturation, 4 3 2 n.3 Style, concept of, 3 9 3 - 3 9 4 Suarez de Peredo, Fray Vincente de, 1 1 3 Sudden infant crib death, 4 2 1 n.7 Sugar cane, 1 7 4 ; arrangement in traditional ofrenda, 2 0 1 Sugar skulls: arrangement in traditional ofrenda, 202; symbolism, 2 2 2 Suicide: belief system about, 3 1 5 ; ceremonies for, 1 3 1 — 1 3 2 ; incidence of, 4 2 1 n.5; not acknowledged during Todos Santos, 1 4 6 Supernaturals, 1 2 ; Catholic ranked above pagan, 3 1 4 ; expressive domain, 3 9 1 ; incidence at household altars, 190— 1 9 6 ; individual powers, 36; infants as best intermediaries, 1 3 5 - 1 3 6 ; modern reluctance to acknowledge, 4 1 5 ; preHispanic origins, 3 4 9 - 3 50; punishment by, 3 0 5 ; reality of, 423 n.2; sanction of Todos Santos rites and ceremonies, 3 0 5 ; symbolism of, 228, 3 1 9 ; violent death caused by, 1 2 7 - 1 2 8 Sweet confections and cookies, 1 7 1 - 1 7 2 ; symbolism of, 2 2 1 - 2 2 2 Symbolic behavior, historical research on, 24—25. See also Expressive behavior Symbolism, 4; in cult of the dead, 2 4 - 2 7 ; decay of, 3 7 0 ; defined, 26 Symmetry in cult of the dead, 1 8 , 346, 401—416 Syncretic synthesis, 6 - 7 ; expressive array and, 24 Syncretism: analysis, 4; Andean and Mesoamerican compared, 434 n.2; applications for, 4 0 4 - 4 0 7 ; asymmetric, 346, 3 5 3 - 3 5 5 , 4 0 1 - 4 0 2 ; common to all religions, 4 1 8 n . i ; conceptualization of, 6; contending ideologies, 3 5 5 ; defined as acculturation, 3 9 8 - 3 9 9 ; diffusion, modernization and secularization, 407—410; history and background, 16— 1 7 , 8 3 - 8 9 , 9 3 - 9 7 ; ideological vs. structural, 8 0 - 8 1 , 3 5 3 - 3 5 8 ; in India, 406; lacking in decoration of graves, 2 6 9 - 2 7 0 ; magic and religion, 15—20; mayordomia as example of, 288; Mesoamerican aspects, 19—20; ofrenda as symbol of, 2 3 0 - 2 3 5 ; origin of

term, 4 1 7 n . i (Introduction); parameters of synthesis, 3 5 6 - 3 5 8 ; pre-Hispanic polytheism components of cult of the dead, 2 8 8 - 2 8 9 ; provenance and amalgamation of elements, 3 4 3 - 3 5 8 ; religious elements, 78; secularization and, 398—410; socioreligious institutions in Tlaxcala, 3 3 8 - 3 3 9 ; symmetry and asymmetry, 401—402; theory and process, 7 7 - 8 3 , 3 9 8 - 4 0 4 Syrian-Antiochene church, 44 Tablecloths, 1 7 7 ; for traditional classical ofrendas, 199—200 Tacha, 1 7 2 ; arrangement in traditional ofrenda, 203 Talavera tile: open chapels, 2 5 9 - 2 6 0 ; tombstone inscriptions, 2 4 1 Tamales, 224 Tamales rellenos, 1 7 3 Tamales tontos, 1 7 3 Tamamixtli. See Pan de muertos Techahstl (vigil of the dead), 1 1 7 Television, 367 Temazcal, 3 5 Tepeilhuitl: activities during, 5 5 - 5 6 ; ceremony of, 285—286 Teponaxtle y chirimia, 1 5 0 - 1 5 1 Teponaxtle y chirimia, 1 5 0 - 1 5 1 , 1 5 4 , 3 1 6 ; attracts dead souls, 3 1 2 Tequixquimic huexolotl, 2 9 1 Tequixquimxtla. See La Despedida Terminal expression, 3 9 5 - 3 9 6 ; socioreligious domains as, 4 1 5 Tesmole, 424 n . i Teteuctin (spiritual gods), 6 8 - 6 9 Tetlachihuic: European veneer of, 3 3 8 ; souls of dead, 3 1 9 ; violent death, 1 2 7 130 Teyolocuanes, 1 0 Tezcatlipoca, 63, 70, 1 0 9 Tezitlazc: administrative role of, 288; allowed to decorate kinsmen's graves, 2 7 2 - 2 7 3 ; August grave decorating, 1 4 3 ; El Cuatlapanga honors, 3 2 0 - 3 2 1 ; intermediaries with mountain owners, 126—127; intermediary between community and church, 4 3 2 n . i ; at mayordomia de las benditas 4nimas del purgatorio, 2 8 5 ; placates whirlwinds, 3 2 3 ;

469

INDEX Tezitlazc (cont.) souls of dead, 3 1 9 ; for suicides, 131— 1 3 2; in tlahuelpuchi death, 137—138; as totally pre-Hispanic figure, 3 3 8 ; at violent deaths (murder), 1 2 8 - 1 3 0 Thanksgiving, cult of the dead and, 74 Tlachihuianes, 1 0 9

riod, 2 9 7 - 2 9 8 , 300, 3 0 5 ; SpanishCatholic component, 3 8 - 5 2 ; structure and process, 7 7 — 1 1 3 ; symbolic importance of, 3 1 6 ; at turn of the century, 116-118 Tombstones, 239; in atrium, 2 3 7 - 2 3 8 ; decoration of, 256—259; incidence of, 2 4 0 - 2 4 1 ; inscriptions on, 2 4 0 - 2 4 1 ; obliterated by modernization, 256, 430 n.4; inTepeyango, 2 6 1 Tonacacuauhtitlan (Tree of Sustenance),

Tlacotonales, 1 7 0 ; arrangement in traditional ofrenda, 202; symbolism of, 221-222 Tlacotonales de sale, 1 7 0 Tlahuelpuchi: actual cause of death, 4 2 1 n.7; European veneer, 3 3 8 ; infant deaths, 1 3 3 - 1 3 4 , 1 3 7 - 1 3 8 , 3 1 6 ; June 26 rite against, 1 4 1 ; souls of dead infants as protection against, 3 2 1 ; victims ignored during Todos Santos, 1 4 6 Tlaloc, 65, 3 3 9 ; idols representing, 1 8 1 Tlalocan, 6 2 - 6 3 , 7 1 - 7 2 Tlaloques, 65 Tlatlapas, 1 7 3 ; origin of, 224 Tlaxcala: administrative divisions, 2 8 29; ethnohistory, 3 0 - 3 7 ; highway and road network, 1 2 3 ; interethnic relations, 29; religious organization, 3 4 3 5 ; social and cultural setting, 2 7 - 3 7 ; social stratification increases, 29 Tobacco, 1 0 3 Toci (goddess), 1 0 9 Todos Santos: belief system for, 3 1 1 - 3 20, 3 5 1 ; celebration of, 1 4 4 - 1 6 8 ; ceremonies during the year, 1 6 4 - 1 6 8 ; crystallization of, 9 7 - 1 0 6 ; December 1 6 ceremony, 1 6 6 - 1 6 7 ; decline of, 3 7 0 - 3 7 1 ; development as syncretic entity, 7 9 - 8 1 ; differentiation of dead during, 1 4 4 1 4 8 , 3 7 0 ; expressive domains in, 3 9 0 3 9 1 ; folk Catholicism, 1 1 0 - 1 1 3 ; honoring all dead, 1 5 4 - 1 6 0 ; honoring dead adults, 1 4 8 - 1 5 4 ; household as basic unit, 1 2 1 - 1 2 2 ; importance in cult of the dead, 4, 308; mass for, 1 5 4 - 1 5 5 ; Mesoamerican emphasis on, 3 - 4 ; noninstitutionalized occasions, 1 4 3 ; November 3 to Octava, 1 6 0 - 1 6 4 ; preliminary activities, 1 1 8 - 1 2 4 ; private household aspects, 7 - 8 , 85—86, 112— 1 1 3 ; public aspects, 1 1 3 , 2 7 5 - 3 0 0 ; rank and importance of, 1 1 8 - 1 1 9 ; regional variations, 4; as sacralized pe-

70, 2 1 6 Tonal, 4 2 2 n.2 Tonantzin, 1 0 9 Tools: arrangement in traditional ofrenda, 1 7 6 - 1 7 7 , 204; symbolism, 226—227 Topiles de iglesia, 1 5 5 , 2 8 1 Torquemada, Fray Juan de, 1 0 5 Tortas, 1 7 1 Tortillas: symbolism of, 2 2 8 ; white and blue, 1 8 1 Tourist attractions: ofrendas as, 3 7 1 ; sculpted graves, 266 Traditional, definition of, 426 n.4 Traditional communities, decline of, 114-115 Traditional cult of the dead, demise of, 365-376 Traditional households, ofrenda arrangement in, 1 8 3 , 1 9 8 — 2 0 6 Transitional households, ofrenda structure and arrangement, 1 8 3 , 2 0 9 - 2 1 1 "Transposition of causation," infant deaths, 1 3 3 - 1 3 4 Tree-cross: for Animas de la buena muerte, 94; decoration of graves, 248; survival of, 2 8 3 - 2 8 4 Trinity: concept of, 4 8 - 4 9 ; Tlaxcalan iconology, 424 n.2 Triple Alliance, 5 3 Tutelary mountain owners, 6 5 , 1 1 1 — 1 1 2 ; ceremony at spring, 2 8 6 - 2 8 7 ; early feasts honoring, 59; as masters of elements, 1 2 6 ; propitiation of, 2 8 5 - 2 8 6 ; relationships with souls of dead, 3 2 3 ; saints associated with, 336—337; symbolism of, 3 2 2 . See also La Malintzi and El Cuatlapanga Tzoalli, 1 0 3 - 1 0 4 ; in pan de muerto, 2 1 8 ;

470

INDEX replaced with wheat, 2 2 0 — 2 2 1 ; role in

Witchcraft and sorcery, 1 1 1 - 1 1 2 ; reality o f , 4 2 3 n.2; syncretism and, 6, 4 0 0 Wooden crucifixes, sixteenth century

pre-Hispanic polytheism, 7 3 - 7 5 Udalricus, 4 7 Untimely death concept, 1 3 4 - 1 3 5

origins, 4 2 5 n.5 Wreaths: decoration of graves, 2 4 7 - 2 4 8 ; mounded graves in Tepeyango, 2 6 1

U p w a r d mobility of acculturated households, 2 1 3 Utensils in ofrenda, 1 7 7

XipeTotec, 1 8 1 Xiuhtecutli (Huehuetotl), 59 Xochatl, 1 4 9 - 1 5 4 Xochitiotzin, Desiderio, x n - x i v , 97 Xocotl Huetzi, 6 1 - 6 2 , 3 3 8 ; in Atlihuetzian, 2 6 8 ; modern survival, 6 1 ; origins, 60; pre-Hispanic origins, 3 4 5 ; prevention of hail, 3 2 2 ; Sahagun describes, 6 1 ; survival m public cult of the dead, 2 8 3 - 2 8 4 ; tree-cross, 4 1 8 n.5

Valencia, Martin de, 3 0 Vases f o r decoration of graves, 2 4 7 Vestigial beliefs, 3 2 0 Violent death: categorization of souls, 1 4 6 ; contravention of natural order, r 2 8 - i 2 9 ; cult of the dead for, 1 2 7 1 3 2 ; offerings for, 2 1 9 Virgen del Carmen, 3 1 7 Virgen de la Luz, 3 1 7 Virgin M a r y : cult o f , 3 9 ; represented on household altars, 1 9 2 , 1 9 4 ; souls of dead children, 3 1 9 - 3 2 0 Virgin of Guadalupe, cult o f , 39

Yaqui Indians, 4 2 2 n.2 Zempoalxochitl flowers (marigolds): accident victims parada de cruz, 1 2 4 1 2 5 ; arrangement in traditional ofrenda, 2 0 4 ; decoration of graves, 2 4 6 - 2 4 7 , 2 5 1 ; as decoration Todos Santos, 1 2 1 — 1 2 2 ; honoring dead adults, 1 4 9 ; niched grave decoration, 2 5 7 - 2 5 8 , 2 6 8 - 2 6 9 ; f o r murder limpia, 1 2 9 — 1 3 0 ; in ofrendas, 1 7 5 ; pre-Hispanic origins, 3 4 7 - 3 4 8 ; purchased instead of bought, 1 2 2 ; on sculpted graves, 2 5 4 - 2 5 5 , 264—266; simple grave decoration, 2 5 3 ; symbolism o f , 2 2 5 ; tombstone decorations, 2 5 6 Z o a p a t l : combined with water, 428 n . n ; not used in cemetery, 2 4 7 ; in ofrenda, 1 7 6 ; symbolism o f , 2 2 6 ; as violent death offering, 2 1 9

W a k e f o r infant deaths, 1 3 5 Water: dead as intermediaries for, 7 4 ; offered at decoration of graves, 2 4 8 - 2 4 9 as part of ofrenda, 1 7 4 - 1 7 5 ; in preHispanic polytheism, 71—72; supernatu r a l associated with, 3 1 9 - 3 2 0 . See also Blessed water Watermelon, 1 7 4 Wheat dough, modern equivalent of tzoalli, 2 1 8 - 2 1 9 , 3 5 5 Whirlwinds: as souls of dead, 1 1 7 ; symbolism o f , 3 2 3 White, Leslie, 26 Wildflowers, 2 5 2 ; decoration of graves, 2 4 7 ; in ofrenda, 1 7 5

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Nutim, Hugo G. Todos Santos in rural Tlaxcala. Bibliography: p. Includes index, i . Nahuas—Religion and mythology, 2. Indians of Mexico—Tlaxcala (State)—Religion and mythology. 3. All Saint's Day. 4. All Souls' Day. 5. Nahuas— Acculturation. 6. Indians of Mexico—Tlaxcala (State)— Acculturation. 7. Syncretism (Religion). I. Title. F1221.N3N895 1988 299'. 78 87-15173 ISBN 0 - 6 9 1 - 9 7 7 5 5 - X (alk. paper)