CRUZ DAS almas: a BRAZILIAN VILLAGE — PIERSON 



179 



for them there's no santos. They believe there's 

 only God." "I'm glad I've always been a Catho- 

 lic," said a farm woman. "I don't like these peo- 

 ple who don't believe in the santos^ 



To alter one's allegiance to Catholic ritual and 

 belief is rather generally condemned. "I was 

 born in the Catholic religion," said a young man 

 in the village, "and I shall die in the Catholic re- 

 ligion. Evei: if everyone else changes, I will not 

 change." "All religions are good religions," said 

 a rather tolerant farmer, "but changing your re- 

 ligion, that just must not be done." "Wliy should 

 I change my religion?" remarked an elderly farm 

 woman. "My father was a Catholic, my hus- 

 band is a Catholic, and I was raised a Catholic. 

 Why should I change?" A person who has wav- 

 ered in his allegiance to Catholic ritual and be- 

 lief and subsequently returned to it is especially 

 ridiculed. "Simao turned Evangelista,'^ a young 

 woman remarked with evident disapproval, "and 

 later he became a Catholic again. They say he 

 became an Evcmgelisfa so he'd ti'eat his wife bet- 

 ter and stop drinking. But he got worse than 

 ever, so he came back to the Catholic religion 

 again.'' 



Any permanent alteration in personal habits 

 which may accompany the conversion of someone 

 to Evangelhta belief, is especially noted and com- 

 mented upon. "It seems that these Evangelistas 

 never smoke," remarked a villager. "Inacio came 

 to buy tobacco from me for the man who is help- 

 ing him hoe his maize. But he didn't get any for 

 himself. He said he didn't smoke any more. 

 What a strange fellow he's become." Some per- 

 sons are much impressed by these changes. 

 "Diogo," said a villager, referring to a young 

 farmer, "began to listen to the Evangelistas, and 

 now he's a changed man. He was spending too 

 much time drinking; one day he came home half 

 drunk. He was beginning to think too much about 

 women. He always had a pack of cards in his 

 pocket. But since he's been baptized, he doesn't 

 drink any more, he doesn't gamble, and he doesn't 

 run after women. It did him good to be baptized 

 by the Evangelistas.''' 



The belief held by members of one of the new 

 sects to the effect that illness or injury can be 

 cured "only by faith," is also extensively com- 

 mented upon. "The other day," said a villager, 

 "a woman came to the village with her children. 



She had a little girl with an awful-looldng place 

 under her eye. She had been cut by a wire. But 

 because they are Evangelistas, no one had done 

 anything about it. It healed all right, but the 

 eyelashes of the lower lid were all bunched to- 

 gether. It looked terrible. I asked the mother 

 why something hadn't been done for the little 

 girl and she said, 'We prayed and now it's well,' " 

 "Some turn Evangelistas,^'' remarked a young 

 farmer, "because they believe the stupid idea that 

 if you're ill and you change to that religion, you'll 

 soon get well. What nonsense!" Other beliefs 

 of members of this particular sect are considered 

 strange and difficult to understand. "You know," 

 said a farm woman, "an Evangelista said to me, 

 'You must not eat blood sausage or anything like 

 that. It won't do at all. The Scriptures warn us 

 against eating blood.' " "Their religion is funny," 

 said a villager. "It doesn't let them break the 

 neck of a chicken ; they have to cut it with a knife 

 and let the blood all run out before they'll eat it. 

 They can't eat wild pig or anything that's killed 

 with a gun, because they say the blood remains 

 cooped up inside." 



The rituals of one of the new sects also appear 

 strange to many local residents. "This business 

 of crying when they get together," said an elderly 

 woman in the village, "is difficult to understand. 

 They say they do that to imitate the disciples, that 

 it says in the Gospels that once when they were 

 on their knees, praying and crying together, there 

 suddenly appeared on the head of each of them a 

 great light. They say they cry together so they too 

 will have light for their spirits. I don't under- 

 stand it.' '■'•Qua! that's all put on," said another 

 woman who was present. "Crying that comes from 

 the heart never has any set hour." ''Yes," remarked 

 a third woman, "and when one of them dies, they 

 don't cry at all ; they sing instead. They say the 

 one who's died is entering into the Glory of God 

 and they want to bring him to God with singing. 

 I once saw a burial of an Evangelista. They sang 

 as they carried the coffin ; and when they put it in 

 the ground, they also sang. What queer people !" 



To these and other critical comments, many 

 Evangelistas reply, as did a farm woman, "Let 

 them talk. The light hasn't come to them yet. 

 Some day the Lord will give them grace. We must 

 be patient and wait. I, too, was once like that. 

 "When the light comes, they will be illumined." 



