At El Salvador mall, shopping and salvation all under one roof
At the food court in the Galerias Escalon shopping mall, a young restaurant employee is getting out the word. She passes out fliers advertising the lunch specials at Los Cebollines, including the $4.50 Super Ranchero combo.
A few feet away, others are getting out The Word.
Each day, the San Jose Chapel offers a Catholic mass and even the sacrament of reconciliation. For a few moments, dozens of shoppers and mall employees exchange Armani and Adidas for Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.
The unlikely pairing between faith and commerce makes perfect sense in El Salvador where they love their malls. Although poverty persists, the high-rise malls draw well-to-do residents who seek air conditioning and a taste of the U.S. in a secure environment.
Likewise, Salvadorans wear their religious preferences on their sleeves, especially with the fierce competition between Catholic and evangelical churches. It is common to see vendors of the traditional pupusa dish display religious icons on their signs.
In this case, the wealthy Siman family pushed for the chapel's inclusion in the mall, according to Janeth Carranza, a lay volunteer at the chapel. The Simans are known as adherents to Regnum Christi, a conservative lay movement within the Catholic Church.
"This serves as an oasis, as a refuge," Carranza said. "It shows that a spiritual service can be provided, not just a material service."
Rev. Jorge Luis Coquis, one of the priests who serves the chapel, said shoppers used to peek inside with an expression that said: "What is that bunch of crazy people doing?"
At a recent mass in the placid chapel, Coquis tailored his homily to reflect the hubbub outside, the arcade beeps, piped-in pop music and screams of children.
He urged worshipers to slow down, to lay off the car horn, to focus on what's important.
"All of this can exist," he would later say, "but God is here."
Homemaker Marta Giron, leaving the chapel with shopping bags, explained: "I feel like my mind is in a different place. Sometimes, we forget who we are and who we should be."
And Coquis said he doesn't mind competing with the restaurants and shops, including a perfume store next door where a small bottle of Chanel No. 5 approaches $100.
"The chapel, like anyone else here, is trying to get out information," he said. "We see people falling apart. They are looking for something here. We can give them God."
oavila@tribune.com
