Javier el Pintor

On my way to the Zocalo I pass the shoe store at the corner of Galeana and Hidalgo thinking that perhaps Javier will be at his usual post, painting his plates with scenes from Cuernavaca and Puebla, his home. But the shoe store is closed, and I don't see him. I'm about to cross the street when someone shouts my name from behind. I turn to see none other than my buddy--backpack full of art supplies in tow and missal in hand (it being Sunday). After some chit chat, I ask him if he has just come from Mass, and don't quite catch his answer. But one simple question like this is all it takes for Javier to characteristically embark on a discourse detailing, in chronological order, the entire liturgical calendar from Cuaresma (Lent) to Cuaresma. After learning the Spanish terms for every holy day from Pentacost to Epiphany, Javier offers me his opinions about the scandals among Catholic priests of Mexico and the United States--there's something about a bad tempered sacerdote from Guerrero who pulled out a pistol and shot a man dead to end an argument--and in our very own Cuernavaca, rumors of a priest who "se desaperacio," y la gente anda diciendo que el se fue con una mujer. But Javier stands firm in his belief that one bad apple doesn't make a bad dozen (or something like that), y que sacerdotes, ante todo, son seres humanos que tiene las mismas tentaciones como otro humanos. His sense of conviction is irrefutible, and I find that Javier's beliefs are a pretty close echo of my staunchly Catholic parents', although thousands of miles and a fortified border separate them.