“There are three great fiestas of the Church,” she answered, “but Christmas is, undoubtedly, the greatest. There is a saying, ‘Who does not fast on the vigil of Christmas is either a Turk or a dog.’ This is true for people of our religion, for at midnight the Niño Jesus was born. I do not know how it is with you, for we are Catholics and you are Christians.”
“In what does the difference lie?”
“In the manner of baptism. You are baptized all over in a great vat with water only; we, with water, oil, and salt that is put in the mouth. There are also other ceremonies,—there is the godmother who holds the candle.”
“What are the Christmas services like?”
“Ah, you must return, if only to see the dancing of the seises in the cathedral. I am told this can be seen only at Seville. The seises are boys, who wear curious dresses and long blond curls. It is an ancient custom,—my husband says, in memory of the Israelites dancing before the ark, but I think differently.”
“At one time there was an effort to break up the dance of the seises,” Pemberton interrupted. “Some busybody complained to the Pope that it was a heathenish thing. The result of the meddling was a papal bull ordering that the dancing should stop when the dresses were worn out. That was long and long ago; the dresses have not worn out yet. They are renewed a piece at a time, one year a sleeve, another year a cap, so the day has never come when they are completely outworn. Our seises still dance at Christmas, Corpus Christi, and the feast of the Conception—that’s my wife’s fiesta, you know.”
“The Christmas ceremonies in the villages are also interesting,” said Concepcion. “I once saw a procession when the Niño Jesus was carried through the streets. It was a very large image, the size of a big baby. It had a beautiful head, and was nicely swaddled. One Christmas as they were carrying him on his procession (this was years and years ago), there was a quarrel in the crowd and one man stabbed another. The Niño Jesus grew pale and turned his head on one side, so that he might not see that dreadful sight. He has remained in that attitude ever since. I myself have seen the Niño. Yes, it was a wonderful happening. It is a much venerated image and has always remained in the care of the good Franciscan monks.”
Concepcion saw that I was interested, that Pemberton was busy explaining things to the others, and, out of the immense goodness of her heart, she went on to speak to me of religious matters.
“I have always heard it said,” she began, “that there are seven religions.”
“I, too, have heard it, indeed, my pastor has written a book on the subject;[1] can you tell me their names?”