Look up Santería in the news using any search engine and you'll find two kinds of news: one focuses on crimes attributed to people who practice Santería, and the other kind focuses on practitioners of Santería as victims of hate crimes.  One story that appeared last summer in the news was about the persecution of  Carlos Valdés, an Oriate (high priest of Santería) living in West Kendall, Florida.  A stalker threatened Valdés, his family and his godchildren in the religion with violence, demanding that they stop practicing Santería or he would kill them.  The stalker, later identified as Cuban American Kellyd Rodríguez, open fired on Valdes's home, leaving bullet holes in the walls.  Rodríguez had terrorized Valdés's family for four years;  his actions included rock throwing, drive by shootings, death threats, and phone calls to Valdés's daughters' school, in which he informed them (incorrectly) that their parents had been killed in an accident.  Rodríguez was eventually arrested and charged with stalking,  but Valdés is pushing for him to be charged with a hate crime.  If Valdés is successful in getting the getting the charges changed, it will be the first official hate crime case involving anti-Santería sentiments in the US.

As background to the Valdés case, reporters quoted Oba Ernesto Pichardo, who went to the Supreme Court in 1993 to defend Santería under the US Constitution's guarantee of religious freedom. (Church of Lukumi Babalu Aye v. City of Hialeah) The Court's decision supported Pichardo's claim that Santería is a religion and, thus, legally deserves to be treated as one.  Nevertheless, many people ignore this benchmark decision and continue to harrass practitioners of Santería for their religious beliefs.  Pichardo remarked, "I've had crucifixes thrown through my windows and a woman try to burn my church down.  So many people in Miami still don't realize that a santero in his home has the exact same legal rights as a Catholic priest in his church or a Jewish rabbi in his synagogue." (www.miaminewtimes.com/2011-08-18/news/santeria-stalker/)

Pichardo hits the nail on the head when he says that people don't recognize the legal rights of Santeros to practice their religion.  Religious persecution isn't new by any means, and certainly at different points in time different religions have experienced hate crimes.  Santería isn't unique in that way, but what always catches my attention is the supposition by mainstream society that Santería isn't a religion at all and, therefore, persecution of its practitioners isn't a hate crime. 

I may be wrong, but I think when someone bombs a synagogue or a mosque, they aren't challenging the idea that Judaism or Islam is a religion.  They're expressing hatred for people who practice those faiths.  Why isn't someone who does the same thing to a Santero's home automatically charged with a hate crime?  Why does the charge need to be discussed?  It should be automatic, if Santería is protected as a religion by US law, as other religions are.  It's always wrong to commit hate crimes, but it's doubly wrong to direct violent actions toward people whose belief system you don't recognize as a legitimate religion. You're hurting them twice, by doing violence to them, and by denying that their belief system constitutes a valid religion. The difference between a hate crime and a case of stalking is that a hate crime has an ideological basis, not a personal one.  Rodríguez targetted Valdés not an an individual he had a problem with, but as a symbol of a religion he found unacceptable.

Another story in the news reports that a 4 year old girl in Roswell Georgia was cut with a straight-edge razor as part of a Santería ceremony.  This kind of story is typical of what we find in the media when Santería is linked to the abuse of people and animals.  The reporter consulted a practitioner of Santería for clarification but somehow managed to miss the main point: Santería rituals don't involve the cutting of children.  Period. A friend of the family identified as a practitioner of Santería claims that "the ritual [of cutting] is a form of self-sacrifice to the saints they worship."  Hmm... that's not exactly true...  Who misunderstood what was being said here? The friend (who doesn't know what Santería is) or the reporter (who is equally misinformed)?  The reporter explained that the ceremony of cutting is called "Paulo," which would be laughable if it were not for the seriousness of the accusation.   Presumably, the reporter means "Palo," short for Palo Monte or the Regla de Congo, which is a West African religion practiced in the Caribbean diaspora, but not the same as Santería (Regla de Ocha).  I'm not a specialist in Palo Monte, but I know that it's not common for a 4 year old girl to be "scratched," as practitioners call it, unless there's a very serious reason for it. In the article, there's no discussion of why the ceremony was carried out or what motivated her parents to initiate her into the religion at that early age.  Instead, the articles ends by stating that Georgia police are looking into the case and may charge the parents with child abuse.
(http://abclocal.go.com/kabc/storysection=news/national_world&id=8534743) 
Once again, between the lines of this article is the implication that Santería (and Palo Monte) are not real religions, and parents who practice these faiths don't have the right to make decisions about the religious upbringing of their children.  Jewish law requires male children to be circumcised, which is also an act of ritualized "cutting" of children's bodies.  Why is it different from the "rayamiento" used in Palo Monte?  I'm not promoting the abuse of children, and certainly not a fan of cutting children's bodies. But every religion has ceremonies that involve the body in one way or another, from baptism to funeral rites.  When it an action considered "child abuse," and when it is considered a legitimate religious ritual?  This is a question the news articles never ask. 


Below you can see Carlos Valdés as a guest on a Miami television show.  The video is in Spanish.

A hundred years ago, it was commonly assumed that most people wanted to cultivate virtues in themselves and their children.  It was considered a good thing to be kind, generous, humble, sober, patient and modest, and a lot of people linked these qualities to a solid religious upbringing.  Being religious and being virtuous came to mean essentially the same thing in some circles, and both were considered important for acceptance in "decent" society.  With the passing of time, however, major social changes transformed the way we thought about virtues and the importance we gave them.  For women in particular, being virtuous was a thorny problem because it meant being chaste, free of sexual desire and sexual experience, and governed by blind obedience to fathers and husbands.  Women's liberation rejected this narrow definition and made us cringe when someone talked about the need to be virtuous.  Because of all the negative moral baggage attached to the failure to cultivate and practice virtues, some people turned their backs on the idea altogether, and the word gradually fell out of favor.

In principle most of us would probably say that being kind, generous, humble, and so on aren't bad qualities to have.  It's just that most of us don't see a lot of this virtuous behavior in the world around us anymore.  Instead, we run into people who're self-centered, demanding and arrogant and, contrary to what our grandparents may have taught us, the very people who are most lacking in moral virtues are the ones who seem to get ahead.   The old saying is: Virtue is its own reward. But, how fair is that, when rewards are most frequently measured in material terms in the modern world?

The Regla de Ocha/ Ifa teaches that virtues are a gift from Olodumare (God).  They come in the form of aché, the energy that runs through us and all living things, uniting us with God.  By choosing to act in a virtuous way, our aché increases, bringing us more iré (good fortune) during our lifetime.  This isn't quite the same as saying that it's a sin to behave in an unvirtuous way, or that behaving as a virtuous person will get us a ticket into Heaven.  Santería doesn't talk about punishment and rewards in the afterlife.  It's much more practical, and focuses on the here and now.  Behaving in a virtuous way makes life go more smoothly for us and the people we come into contact with.  That's what brings us good fortune.

The problem is that when we live in a materialistic world where good fortune is usually equated with material success, the people who show the most virtues are the ones who often end up at the bottom of the heap.  Being humble in some corporate environments is a recipe for disaster.  It means you'll be overlooked, or not taken seriously,  that you can't compete with "the big dogs" who use aggressive tactics to get ahead.  Being kind can be interpreted as weakness, being generous can cause others to take advantage of you.  Why should we cultivate and practice old fashioned virtues when they don't seem to help us?

In many ways, Santería is an old-fashioned religion because it encourages traditional values like discretion, loyalty, sincerity, prudence, fairness, temperance, hard work, and strength in times of adversity. While it's not the only religion that values such moral qualities, it doesn't attach the notion of sin to our failure to practice them.  Practitioners of Santería pray for firmeza, which translates as an unwavering adherence to the morally correct position, one that permits us to transcend momentary weaknesses and indecision and choose the right path in life. It's not always easy to be patient or generous, but if it's the right thing to do under the circumstances,  then it's in our best interest to do it, even if it's difficult.  Temperance doesn't mean giving up pleasure; it means keeping it in balance with other things in life.  Pleasure loses meaning if it's all we ever experience; when it comes after a time of hard work or struggle, we feel pleasure more deeply because we know what it feels like when we have no pleasure in our lives. Temperance encourages us not to waste what we have, to respect the environment, and use only what we need.  It's an antidote for greed.  As part of our spiritual growth, we need to learn self-control, not because excess is a sin, but because it leads to real problems in the here and now.  Strength isn't measured in external terms as a way of dominating and controlling others, but as inner strength, the ability to get through hard times without losing dignity, and the ability to recognize and admit our errors without falling into self-doubt.

Humility, patience and respect are virtues that are increasingly hard to cultivate in the modern world, where we're always in a hurry, we have pressures on us to do more, produce more, acquire more.  It's hard to respect people who don't respect us, especially when they talk incessantly about how fabulous they are and how insufficient and lacking we are.  Who can be patient with people who push us out of the way or walk over us to get where they want to go?    

The ethical code of Santería teaches us that we can't change how other people behave, but we can change the way we interact with them.  Unfortunately, as the religion spreads and is embraced by people who don't fully understand it, some of the traditional virtues are being forgotten. In some Santero communities, individuals who are still relatively new to the religion already imagine that they know more than their elders.  They speak as if they were the only ones to understand and possess the truth.  They judge and condemn others without having a good foundation themselves.  What they don't seem to grasp is that their remarkable lack of humility and respect for others detracts from their own aché as priests and priestesses of the religion.  When they try to build themselves up by putting other people down, they're destroying their own prestige in the community, making enemies, and putting in jeopardy their own relationship with Olodumare and the divine.  Charity is one of the most important virtues for a Santero/a because it teaches us to treat others with respect and not pass judgment on them.  Obedience is another important virtue, because it reminds us that we aren't perfect, and all the knowledge of the world can't fit into one person's head.  We learn as we go, and follow the teachings of our elders, so we don't take a false step along the way and end up with a distorted understanding of the religion.  No one is perfect, and it shouldn't even be our goal.  As humans, we're bound to make mistakes.  But, we could all benefit from practicing a little more humility, patience, repect, kindness, generosity, charity, and other virtues that make our interactions with the world less difficult.  If we understand that virtues are Olodumare's gift to human beings and it's our own free will that determines which, if any, we want to cultivate, we can see more clearly that virtues aren't imposed on us as restrictions, but are tools that we can use to open the path to spiritual evolution.  We may not always see rewards in material terms, but we will have a less stressful and problematic day to day existence.  For many people who practice Santería, that in and of itself is enough reward.

One of the most common criticisms outsiders make of Santería is that it's full of superstitions, and practitioners of the religion are superstitious people.  For many Christians, it's a sin to be superstitious because it challenges the idea that God alone has the power to shape our lives.  This isn't a very logical argument if you look at it closely.  First of all, the teachings of Santería tell us that there is one Supreme God who has three forms, much like the Holy Trinity of the Christian faith:  Olodumare, Olorun, and Olofi are the names of God in this religion.  People who practice Santería believe that God has control over everything in the cosmos.  Concepts like free will and destiny are complicated metaphysical ideas that aren't easily explained, but in the most general terms, we can say that practitioners of Santería believe that everything happens for a reason known only to God, we have some control over how things turn out in our own lives and can influence our destiny through our behavior and the choices we make in life, the Orichás and the egun (spirits of the ancestors) can intervene on our behalf and guide us toward evolution, and those who have the happiest and healthiest lives are those who live in harmony with the destiny that corresponds to them on earth.

Are these superstitions?  The definition of superstition is a belief or notion that is not based on reason or knowledge, an irrational fear of what is unknown or mysterious (especially in connection with religion), or any blindly accepted belief or notion.  All religions require people to have faith, and to accept dogma that explains the basic tenets of the religion.  These ideas aren't necessarily based on reason or scientific knowledge.  At the risk of upsetting people who are deeply committed to the Judeo-Christian tradition, I'll point out that there are many stories in the Bible that defy rational explanation.  People who believe that God passed down the Ten Commandments to Moses, or the Virgin Mary gave birth to the son of God believe that these things are true, even if they are not based on scientific "reason" or "knowledge." These ideas are based on beliefs, and are held to be true by people who have faith in the teachings of their religion.  Santeria is no different, because it also has a system of beliefs that has been passed down from the ancestors, and these beliefs have been considered sacred and holy by many people over the course of many years.

Divination, for example, is not a superstition for practitioners of Santería, but a sacred ritual.  The advice that comes from the Orichás and the egun is divine communication, not fortune telling. The Lucumí people believe that God doesn't speak directly to humans because we don't have the ability or understanding to grasp the complexities of God.  The Orichás and egun are closer to us on earth, and can help guide us toward the right path in life. They know God's plans for us, and they can help us understand those plans a little better.  We communicate with them through divination, trance possessions, drumming and dancing ceremonies, prayers and songs.  Sometimes we carry out other ceremonies like the rogación de cabeza (spiritual head cleansing), we make ebó (tributes, offerings), or we receive additional elekes (beaded necklaces) or prendas (amulets) to protect us or help us evolve. To outsiders, it may seem that these are superstitions, but from inside the religion, they are sacred ceremonies, based on a traditional and ancient system of beliefs.  They are visible manifestations of faith.

The area where things get a little  more shady are the trabajitos (the little spells or 'works') that some practitioners do to influence the behavior or attitudes of the Orichás and egun.  For example, it's commonly believed that putting a clear glass of water under the bed while you sleep will keep away troublesome egun in the night, who might otherwise disturb you when you sleep.  People who suffer from bad dreams or involuntary twitching while asleep might be diagnosed as having a problem with "un muerto" (spirit of the dead) and told to sprinkle themselves with cologne and cascarilla (powdered eggshell) before going to bed.  Are these superstitions?  I prefer to think of them more as folk wisdom.  The belief in egun is fundamental to Santería; for practitioners of the religion there's no doubt that egun roam the earth and interact with the living.   Egun are not the same as ghosts. They don't inspire irrational fear.  Many egun are friendly and act as guardian spirits.  But, the egun need to be kept under control, they can't be allowed to interfere too much with our lives, because even without meaning us harm, they can start to rob of us health, prosperity, and other things we need and desire to live well.  Generation after generation, people have passed down recipes and remedies to help people deal with these problems that crop up in daily life.  Perhaps the effect is merely psychological, but psychological remedies can trigger the subconscious mind into new patterns of thinking that can relieve bad dreams or anxiety in some people.  Studies have shown that there's a connection between what we believe to be true and what we experience as true.

Mainly due to the influence of the media and popular culture, many people think Santería is all about curses and spells and witchcraft.  Many people outside the religion have an irrational fear of it because they associate it with powers they don't understand.  It's important to note that in most cases, these fears are based on misinformation and a lack of clarity about the religion.  Do you have bad luck because you have been cursed by someone?  Or, do you have bad luck because you made bad choices, acted unwisely, engaged in risky behavior, or otherwise brought bad luck into your own life?  Did you lose your boyfriend because someone put a spell on him? Or did you lose him because you were difficult, demanding, unreasonable, or neglectful?  Sometimes people are hesitant to take responsibilities for their own actions, and quickly look for a scapegoat to carry the blame. It's easier to say that someone put a spell on you and caused you to fail rather than examine your own actions to see if you did something wrong. 

Other times, we encounter obstacles and problems that have no apparent cause.  Clearly, we aren't always to blame for what happens to us, and it's natural to look for an explanation outside ourselves.  These obstacles manifest themselves in the physical world as osorbo (blockages, obstacles) that can have many causes and origins.  They may be sent by God or the Orichás to challenge us to change something about ourselves or our circumstances. They may be caused by gossip and envious people who send bad energy to us.  Ogo (witchcraft) does exist as a possible source of osorbo, but it's not the only one, nor is it necessarily the most common one.  Through consultas (divination sessions), ebó, and protective measures one can avoid or remedy problems caused by ogo.  The situations represented in television shows, movies and popular novels where people die as a result of a Santería curse is a distortion and misrepresentation of the religion. 

So, in the end, we have to ask: where does superstition come into the picture?  In order for a spell or curse to work, there has to be belief on both sides:  the one who does the spell has to believe it's real, as does the one it's aimed at.  People who fear Santería as a religion that can harm them must on some level believe it has the power to do harm.  Are they being superstitious? I would say yes, because their fear is irrational, based on something they don't understand.  People who practice Santería as a religion believe that it has the power to help them, and on some level, their faith is what makes evolution and progress possible.  The difference between belief and superstition, then, depends on the point of view of the person speaking.  Insiders understand and accept the beliefs of the religion, and their faith allows them to accept the beliefs as true, despite the absence of logical explanations and scientific knowledge.  Outsiders feel doubt and sometimes fear, because they don't understand the underlying principles of the religion.  The next time we criticize someone as being "superstitious," we need to think about the difference between superstitions and beliefs, and ask if our choice of words reveals cultural narrow-mindedness.