"Son, saidst thou?"

She seized the hand of her husband and carried it to her lips.

"Thy blood lives in the bosom of Iracema. She will be the mother of thy son."

"Son saidst thou?" exclaimed the Christian with joy.

Kneeling down , he threw his arm around her and kissed her, mutely thanking God for this great happiness.

Iracema, Jose de Alencar, 78

The announcement of Iracema's pregnancy to Martim was obviously an important moment in the book, possibly even a turning point. At that moment, the reader realizes that this is the real deal, and that the love they feel for each other is going to have to become as real as it seems to be. Anyone, with any sort of a heart, can appreciate the subtle beauty of the announcement of a little one on the way. Iracema was not the first one to share this news and will not be the last.

As a husband, I will eagerly await these words when the time is right. And, like most loving parents, I will probably be overprotective and very proud of my mini me. But at that special moment when I am informed of its coming, I can't imagine what I might feel, what Martim might have felt. This passage of the book, in my opinion, offers a beautiful scene of an excited pair of parents-to-be. 

Throughout history, there have been some pretty big announcements of pregnancy, or something of the like. The biggest of these was no doubt that of the Savior.

"And the angel said unto her, Fear not, Mary: 

for thou hast found favour with God. 

And, behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb, 

and bring forth a son, and shalt call his name JESUS."

Holy Bible, Luke 1:30-31

John the Baptist's birth was announced in a similar manner. More recently, we have heard of other famous pregnancies. 

Reese Witherspoon. 

Jessica Simpson. 

Elton John. 

It doesn't seem to matter who it is. It's a big thing. Somewhere, in the jungles of modern day Brazil, Iracema's announcement was no less wonderful. It is something that seems to find importance in every culture. And it is something that will continue. 

Thus Have We Made the World

"We must work in the world; the world is thus."

"No, thus have we made the world. Thus have I made it."

Hontar, Cardinal Altamirano, The Mission

In a serious moment of reflection, Cardinal Altamirano in The Mission practically sums up the intense doubt in his soul of whether or not he had made the right decision with the missions. He knew that he had chosen the one that was more pressured, and even, perhaps, the lesser of two evils. But deep down, the Cardinal obviously pondered much on the topic, and the state of his eternal soul. 

I think the last few lines say so much about the take-home message of this movie. It also, however, goes infinitely beyond the scope of any movie. His confession of what the world had become was profound in many ways. While he, personally, was not to blame for all sadness in this world, he is one of the few that seemed to admittedly mourn the manmade status of our political world. 

We face the same challenges today. As political and religious powers continue to clash, the world finds itself still in the never-ending fall toward chaos. In a time where technology, engineering, art, freedom, and media are at an all-time high, global morals seem to be slipping at an all-time high rate. When everyone has a different definition of what is right, right becomes harder to find.

In a letter to Benedict Arnold in 1775, George Washington warned of this very principle:

"While we are contending for our own liberty, we should be very cautious not to violate the rights of conscience in others, ever considering that 

God alone is the judge of the hearts of men, and to Him only in this case are they answerable."

Governments in every country of the world would do well to remember this. And to remember the same lesson that Cardinal Altamirano learned after such a difficult decision and lesson learned. 

Flowers and Songs of Sorrow

"Nothing but flowers and songs of sorrow

are left in Mexico and Tlatelolco,

where once we saw warriors and wise men. [...]

We are crushed to the ground; we lie in ruins.

There is nothing but grief and suffering

in Mexico and Tlatelolco,

where once we saw beauty and valor.

Have you grown weary of your servants?

Are you angry with your servants,

O Giver of Life?"

Nahua poetry, Victors and Vanquished, Stuart Schwartz, 213

During this section of discovery and conquest, I have really been trying to put myself in the shoes of those on both sides of this story. Without me taking sides or claiming one side the victors and the other side vanquished, I think it is pretty easy to decide who you sincerely feel bad for in this heartbreaking story.

In the beginning, I tried to imagine being a Spaniard arriving in such a foreign land, seeing such foreign people and practices. I try to imagine what I would think and feel as I came upon this unknown people with peculiar cultures and resources. My mind would have been blown seeing the breathtaking landscapes and endless beauty. At the same time, I would have been frightened to see the strange actions of the unknown people, and to witness the horrifying sacrifices they performed.

Then, I imagine myself as a native, minding my own business. In mind's eye, I try to grasp what it might have been like to find strange ships at my shore. I wonder what they must have thought as frighteningly armed men wandered through my land with no apparent respect for me or nature. Honestly, the first thing I thought about during this section was Pocahontas, and how she and her people attempted to work with the strangers.

Finally, I remorse with the people who called Mexico their home. I honestly tried to imagine what it would be like if that happened to my life, my culture, my people. I don't even want to imagine it. The poetry included at the end of the reading was very insightful. It must have been devastating to witness the total destruction of a once-thriving community. It is certainly a sad part of history

The Woman is Knowledge

"Ruben Dario, like all the other great poets, considered woman to be not only an instrument of knowledge but also knowledge itself. It is a knowledge we [men] will never possess, the sum of our definitive ignorance: the supreme mystery."

The Labyrinth of Solitude, Octavio Paz, 66

There are so many apparent truths in what is said here. And while I really agreed with a few things that were said, I also found Paz's writings on women hard to read. I obviously am not a woman, and I still had a hard time reading literature about the objectivity and indifference toward the greatest creation of all. The woman was compared to or referred to as:

an alien,

the image of death,

and the goddess of destruction.

Paz also questioned what she thinks. Or whether she even thinks. He even wondered if she had feelings. To me, these are the strangest things one could ever think about a woman. I think it's pretty obvious that women think. I would also assume that most everyone knows that women, of all people, definitely have feelings. And those feelings are some of the most sincere and righteous feelings of anyone. When I think of my wife while reading this passage, her valuable thoughts and meaningful feelings and opinions come flooding to my mind. I value these feelings above my own. 

However, even though Paz says some peculiar things about women, I have to realize that we come from different cultural, religious, and family backgrounds. He is just relaying thoughts that many people share with him. And to be honest, there was much of the content in this passage that I agreed with. The quote listed above, for example, seems to be the perfect description of the woman. In my opinion, she IS knowledge. And it IS a knowledge that I will never possess. At the same time, however, she is such a mystery. Sometimes that innate knowledge befuddles the mind of the man. That is fine. She is knowledge. Just go with it, man.