In much of the world, a wedding is quite predictable, the dress, the rings, the cake. When we were invited to the wedding of our Mayan housekeeper Lucero, we jumped at the chance. She is from a postage stamp sized village thirty minutes from Bacalar. It was our fourth wedding in twelve years and they have run the gambit from top shelf to backyard.
This wedding was on a whole different level. Ninety-some percent of Mexico is Christian with most of that Catholic. But not in this area. There are a lot of Mennonites, Jehovah’s Witnesses, Seventh Day Adventists and Pentecostals. We had never been to a Pentecostal wedding.
The wedding started at 6pm on a Thursday. We put on our one “fancy” outfit and prayed that the thunder we heard would not spoil the occasion. The festivities started on time which was no small miracle in Mexico. It was all quite unexpected from there.
The wedding involved standing for most of two plus hours, arms raised, and singing, amen-ing, and hallelujah-ing. Three different preachers tag-teamed to inspire, admonish, and harangue in Spanish. It would have been ok except the volume produced by half a dozen large speakers emitted a sound heard by God themself. I stuffed tissue in my ears but it did not help. We left early.
I hated to leave. It meant so much to Luceto that we would come, and four old white women in a sea of about 200 brown faces did not go unnoticed. The family tried to feed us before we left but our tolerance for bleeding ears was spent.
There are times that I admire the devotion, enthusiasm, and conviction of religion. My personal spiritual beliefs are quieter and more internal. I am grateful that everyone gets to find their own place, even if it’s not quiet or peaceful but right for them.
DOS TORTAS
the adventures of dos tortas 
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