The Doyle Engaging Difference Program - Georgetown University

During my time in Ecuador, I had the chance to spend a month living among the emerald green Andes mountains, the sounds of cows and roosters waking everyone up in the morning, and the smells of fresh bread in bakeries and fruits in the markets in the small town of Saraguro. Like most towns in Ecuador, Saraguro has a central park, a little square in the middle of town surrounded by restaurants, shops, city offices, with the main feature being a beautiful, large, Catholic church. The influence of Catholicism in Saraguro, similar to many of the other cities, parochials, and neighborhoods I had the chance to visit across Ecuador over the last few months, is very visible. It is not only seen in the church in the main plaza, there are several other churches throughout the town, and small shrines dedicated to La Virgen del Cisne (the Virgin of the Swan) are everywhere.

Since the arrival of the Spanish, Catholicism has been an important political, religious, and cultural influence. I wondered how the strong presence and influence of the institutional Catholic Church reflected or diverged from ordinary people’s personal faiths and experiences with the Church. Shortly after I arrived in Ecuador, I explored the historic center of Quito, where another hundreds-of-years-old church would appear around every corner. These churches are incredibly ornate, the buildings and artwork impressively preserved from when the Spanish built them shortly after arriving in Quito. However, most of these churches had entrance fees, smelled a tad bit musky, and were full of informational placards making a place of worship feel more like a historical building preserved as a museum.

Despite this initial experience, I quickly realized that Catholicism is not just a part of Ecuador’s past. The Catholic faith is deeply rooted in this country, and it is expressed every day, going far beyond the confines of church buildings and seeping into daily life, from the most monotonous parts of daily routines to elaborate festivals, parades, and celebrations.

One example of the living Catholic faith connects to the shrines of La Virgen del Cisne, such as those I passed every day in Saraguro. Driving down the winding Pan-American Highway through the Andes, we passed many of these shrines. They varied in size, some were simple, encased in a small glass enclosure, and others looked more like little stone chapels built into the side of the mountain. All of them had a plethora of fresh flowers placed on the ground as an offering, and many had little prayer cards or crafts stuck into crevices or scattered around, bringing a little statue to life. Further, it’s common practice for drivers to honk their horns and make the sign of the cross as they pass as a quick prayer and sign of respect as they pass. Another sign of this living faith is the custom of saying Diós le pague (may God repay you) to thank someone, such as when someone prepares food for you.

I came to understand that the living faith is not always so directly connected to religious symbols or language. After speaking and living with several host families in different settings, I learned that many Ecuadorians, even if they have a deep personal faith, only go to Mass for special occasions rather than every week. Instead, they told me they intended to make it their life’s mission to share Jesus’ love with others through their work or that they feel most at peace climbing mountains to connect with God’s creation. Many people shared with me how they found God in their lives, and it was a little bit different for everyone I talked to.

While it was not originally by choice, I adapted to Ecuador’s expressions of the Catholic faith as well. Growing up Catholic, I went to Mass every Sunday, which was a habit I happily continued at Georgetown. Going to Mass in Dahlgren Chapel over the past few years has always been something I looked forward to, and going to Sunday Mass feels central to how I express my faith. Living with host families was a wonderful experience, and it also meant I had to give up a lot of control and independence. Going to Mass wasn’t usually an option, and for the first time in my life, Mass wasn’t part of my Sunday routine. While this lack of control originally felt frustrating, I quickly found myself looking for other ways to express my faith and connect with God. Hiking through the Amazon Rainforest and snorkeling with penguins in the Galapagos Islands, I knew I was living through once-in-a-lifetime experiences where it was easy to be amazed by the beauty of the creation surrounding me. However, I quickly grew better at finding God everywhere. As I made my daily commute to class, I found God in the warmth of the strong equatorial sun and the beauty of the green mountains. I felt God’s love in the home cooked meals I shared with my host families and the stories we shared about our differing experiences and perspectives as we sat around the table during sobremesa. I adapted my practice of Catholicism to better align with how it is practiced in Ecuador, but I also learned more about my personal faith and myself through the process.

Catholicism in Ecuador is not confined to a building. It’s alive, and it can be found everywhere. My time learning in Ecuador helped me understand that my faith is alive too, and I’m surrounded by God’s love all the time.