Christmas is coming soon, and I´d like to share with you a letter to a friend in the States, written last year, when he asked me what Christmas was like in Mexico: San Antonio Tlaycapan is a very small Mexican village bordering on Ajijic - another, more well-known fishing village on the shores of Lake Chapala.

Last evening was the beginning of Las Posadas (The Inns).
It began literally right outside my door, where the youth of the village gathered - both little ones and teenagers. Two of the children, about 8 years old, were dressed as Mary and Joseph, with another child carrying a lantern to light the way.

People of all ages began to collect. Among the diversified throng, I saw shawled crones, young fathers with small tots perched atop their shoulders, and beautiful brown women beamingly holding the hands of other progeny, each dressed in his best.

A young man played Las Mañanitas on his guitar as everyone sang softly. The village priest told the story of Las Posadas, wherein Mary and Joseph tried to find room at an inn and were turned away from that and other inns again and again.

We followed along behind the celebrants, additional crowds gathering behind us, as Mary and Joseph walked on the cobblestone streets to the first "inn" - a modest Mexican home, decorated for the occasion with many-colored lights, a white sheet as backdrop to a Nativity scene. The grandfather was dressed in white, kneeling absolutely still, being blessed by his beautiful granddaughter, as motionless as he, dressed as an angel, in white with white wings and a silver halo.

Here, the procession halted while the padre intoned blessings. Everyone again sang Las Mañanitas as we would many times during the night, accompanied by the whispering guitar, and the voices of the youngsters raised high in spiritual adoration. Each stop at an "inn" gave us a creative, beautiful, spiritual and touching cyclorama depicting a different Christmas scene with stationary, living subjects. This continued at different homes along the ancient road, each stop accompanied by praying and singing.

The procession ended near midnight at the yard of the grammar school near the lake, where all the children were given Christmas sweets made by the women of the village. I spied a Christmas piñata being gaily carried inside. Across the street from the schoolhouse stands the local church, whose entrance was graced by a proud Josefina - her youngest son, Fernando, was an altar boy. I went to my first Mass in over 30 years.

On all the remaining nights leading up to Christmas, everything will be repeated, though on a different street, with diverse scenes. Then, on Christmas Eve, an "inn" will at last permit Mary and Joseph to stay the night. For the first time, a baby will appear, and be placed in the manger.

In this very simple village live people of unconquerable faith in their God. I am both humbled and awed.

Where have I been all my life?"

Merry Christmas to all.