I was almost named for the Patron Saint of Travelers. But the Irish have a well-known habit of turning long names into nicknames and diminutives (Chris, Chrissy, Christy, etc.) and my Mom didn’t like that. So my Dad came up with Mark (from St. Mark the Evangelist, he of the gospels) and they stuck “Christopher” in the middle.

The picture is from the church at Atotonilco, a village a dozen kilometers west of San Miguel de Allende. Officially it is the Santuario de Jesús Nazareno de Atotonilco and it is still a functioning church as well as a tourist destination. The interior artwork, which includes frescoes, murals, oil paintings, statuary, woodwork, gilding, and you-name-it, is from the 17th and 18th centuries and is a high point of Mexican Baroque. It’s impossible to capture the grandeur and garishness of the scene by photography. You really have to see it for yourself!

I’m a Catholic school kid and a former altar boy so religious art is old hat for me. But the stuff at Atotonilco is so over-the-top that I was overwhelmed. The sincerity of the work is palpable—you really feel the faith that sustained the artists and artisans who crafted this sprawling masterpiece.

I particularly liked the peculiar Latin twist on the Catholic iconography. The famous scene on Calvary with Jesus crucified between the two thieves (Luke 23:32) is altered. Traditionally, one thief is a mere burglar, the other a cruel robber. The Mexicans felt that a violent criminal should not share the site with the Savior and his cross is moved to another area of the altar and so there are only two crosses on display. And the Roman soldier who pierces Jesus’ side with his lance (John 19:34) is instead a caballero in full conquistador garb.

St. Christopher medallions have been worn by the faithful for centuries. Invoking San Cristóbal’s grace and protection at the start of a journey or upon arrival at your destination was supposed to ward off things like the plague as well protect you against highwaymen and other dangers.

Tom Waits summoned up the saint in his tune “Hang On St. Christopher” from Frank’s Wild Years (1987):

Hang on St. Christopher, now don’t let me go
Get to me Reno, got to bring it in low
Put my baby on the flat car, got to burn down the caboose
Get ’em all jacked up on whiskey, then we’ll turn the mad dog loose
Hang on St. Christopher on the passenger side
Open it up, tonight the devil can ride
Oh yeah, oh yeah