Inside the church, boys in flamboyant costumes began to dance

As I approached the church at the center of town, a strangely resonant voice reached my ears. Someone inside was speaking loudly. Peering through the doorway, I found what I suspected: the priest was deep into his sermon. This was the church in Zaachila, a small Mexican town, but such a scene could have taken place anywhere—the sermon was long, as sermons usually are. The congregation sat sunk into their chairs, half of them listening intently, the other half wearing faces that suggested their minds were elsewhere. Perhaps long-windedness is not unique to priests but simply a universal human trait.

At last, the sermon ended, and a group of boys stepped forward to the altar. They were dressed in brightly colored traditional costumes, enormous feathered hats balanced precariously on their small heads. The music struck up, and they began to dance. Their small bodies leapt across the stone floor, turning it into a kind of drum that echoed with their steps. It was not mere entertainment but, it seemed, an essential part of the festival itself.

In Mexico, they say a festival is taking place somewhere at almost any time of year. Religious ritual blends seamlessly with local custom, so even a modest town like Saachila stages events with surprising grandeur. One wonders whether the boys’ necks ache under the weight of those headdresses, but they dance on with cool composure. Perhaps for them, the real joy lies not in the performance but in the meal that follows. After all, across time and cultures, festivals are often less about piety or spectacle and more about the shared excuse to eat and drink together.ch. They were jumping up and down in time to the music. Apparently, it was a festival day.