Religious faith is a funny thing because it can be very strong despite there not being any empirical proof. Angels exist? Can you prove it? For the poor, God/religion is the only resort because although they may lack higher education, they aren’t naïve enough to believe that the government will significantly improve their lot in life, and they aren’t ashamed to show their blind faith in something they can neither see nor prove exist, or at least convince someone more “rational” who hastens to dismiss their beliefs. (This may be why UFO’s and saints only appear to the poor and “uneducated”; anyone else might be ashamed to admit seeing them. And miracles? There must be a “rational” explanation somewhere.)
Which leads me to this book by the Colombian writer, Laura Restrepo, and the overused fallback label for this type of Latin-American literature, “magical realism”; I no longer know what that means but I saw this as a satire on those who benefit by what they believe and those who try to benefit from those who believe. The story is told by reporter who had high aspirations when she began her career in journalism but instead has to make her living writing for a sensationalist supermarket magazine. Inevitably, as a woman, she is sent to interview the beauty pageant contestants, something she hates to the point where she’ll either do damage or puke if she has to listen to one more tall blonde talk about her aspirations for world peace or whatever – but she has to eat. Then one day, the editor tells her that he’s heard from his sister’s maid about an angel in a remote, dirt-poor Bogotá neighborhood and send her to investigate. (Some information here: the book mentions that there are more saints in Colombia per square kilometer than anywhere else, and that’s probably true; when the book was written in 1997, beauty pageants and miraculous religious events were still big news items; there’s another joke here about the poorest neighborhoods always having religious names, such as Galilea/Galilee, or the Brazilian film which takes place in a favela, “City of God”; finally, the cab driver who took the journalist to Galilea had never heard of it, needed to call twice for directions, and wasn’t able to take her all the way because the way was too steep and unpaved.) What she encounters is a world apart, where everyone just takes the presence of the angel – the most beautiful man the journalist has ever seen - as just a part of their community, from his mother to the priest to the acolytes; but while not all accept or want him; he is unconsciously made into an instrument for their purposes. In this, I saw a definite parallel to other places, such as Lourdes, where religious experiences are business, and places where the presence of another holy figure could be a threat to current religious authority - unless a way can be found to make him/her useful, and this doesn’t always mean for religion. At the time that this book was written, the Colombian government was battling FARC and other revolutionary/terrorist organizations.
I found this to be a humorous, honest, but somewhat sardonic, look at the effect of an angel’s presence in the world. It in no way mocks religion or religious beliefs but cynically does take on how religious icons can be annexed by others. I’ve always had a thing about religious authority’s frequent attempts to control believers and this book is pretty good at showing that. (Coincidentally, another book has had the luck to come out at a propitious moment, “El Loco de Dios en el Fin del Mundo”, by Javier Cercas; it has yet to be translated into English but it will be now that Pope Francis has passed away. The author is a firm atheist but is sent on a journalistic assignment with the Pope to Mongolia, with the express purpose of asking a question his mother, an avid Catholic, wants answered: will she be reunited with her late husband in the next world? Although a non-believer, the author shows great respect and admiration for those who do believe, and especially those who sacrifice in their beliefs. Keep an eye out.)