A Personal Reflection from an American in a Spanish Holy Week Procession

Wednesday night at midnight, I marched the streets of León as a papón, a penitent who wears the hood and habit of a cofradía (religious brotherhood) to demonstrate devotion and penance, and to commemorate the passion, death and resurrection of Christ.  This was a small processional with only a couple of hundred brothers (and sisters) marching the two and a half hour route of the Solemne Vía Crusis Procesional (the Solemn Way of the Cross Processional.)  The brotherhood that sponsored the processional and invited me to take part is the Cofradía de las Siete Palabras de Jesús en la Cruz (The Brotherhood of the Seven Words of Jesus on the Cross.) For me, as an American only recently becoming familiar with many of the religious and historical traditions of Spain, just being invited to participate was a very special honor.  Actually wearing the hood and habit and marching with the brotherhood, however, was indeed a very powerful, emotional and special experience.  The only thing that could have improved it would have been if my wife, María, could have been here to share it with me.

Carrying my hood on the way to the processional at the Church of San Marcelo about twenty minutes before midnight.  My niece, Sofía is to my right. Her fiancé, Ronny (who took the photographs) and my mother-in-law, María Rosa, were also with me. (You can click on images in this blog for a larger view.  Use the "escape" or "esc" key to return to a normal view.)

The Church of San Marcelo is a beautiful baroque chapel, dedicated to León's patron saint, only a few minutes walk from the city's Gothic cathedral.  Just after midnight, I and other participants in the processional were seated in the pews for prayer before we began our march.  At first, the processional was largely an act of getting out of the church and onto the street without injuring ourselves or others.  The hoods, while visually stunning, are basically blinders that let you see only straight ahead.  Brothers stood at the door of the Church and took the hands of each papón as we exited down the stairs, which were not visible to us.  The brothers watched and warned us of obstructions throughout the processional.

Here I prepare to put on the hood.  Afterwards, I will not be recognizable to anyone I know.

I (center) fully dressed in my papón.  Eduardo de Paz, who founded the Brotherhood in 1962, is to my right rear with the gray hair, glasses and black coat. He invited me to participate in this processional.

We lined up in two rows to begin the processional.

A crowd of a few thousand people surrounded the route.  We marched to a drum beat in two parallel rows.  After only a moment, I passed directly by my wife's young cousin Natalia.  I waved to her, which I'm not sure I was supposed to do, and she acknowledged me. Only a few moments later, I saw her father and mother, José Luis and Cristina.  I waved to José Luis and he also acknowledged me.  I know that he was fairly sure it was me, despite him knowing so many members of the Brotherhood because he took a photo with his phone and texted my wife.

This is a screenshot of  the text message José Luis sent my wife while the processional was still young.  In English, it says "Rosi (my wife, María Rosa), I think this is Tom...."

After the first several minutes, I lost track of time and even location sometimes as I marched.  At one point, a professional photographer stepped up close and took a photograph of me in my hood. It felt strange because I had been in his shoes many times before.  Now I was in a brand new pair of shoes that were still to be tried. It was  time for me to contemplate, to open up just feel the experience as a drumbeat kept time with the march.  I was participating in and being a part of a historic tradition that has continued for hundreds of years. At times, I felt as if this must have been similar to how it was for medieval penitents those centuries ago.  There was time to think about many things, including  my family and how I wish they were here with me for Holy Week.

The papones (hoods, tunics, and capes) of the Brotherhood of the Seven Words of Jesus on the Cross are easily recognizable from their colors and design.  Through the entire route, spectators watched us as we made our circuit.

Members of the Brotherhood at the end of the processional carry a representation of the crucified Jesus.  The wall to the right is one of the original Roman walls of the city.

 

I may be among theses marchers as we pass the Roman walls.  I was near the rear of the processional.

 

A very young papón (center) was among the participants.

At regular intervals we would stop and a priest would read payers commemorating the 14 stations of the cross.

In these procession in which identities are hidden by hoods, the penitent atones for his sins in anonymity.  However, as you march and contemplate, you realize that not only does God know your face under the hood, but he also knows your mind and heart.


I left the procession knowing that I, along with my family, have truly been  blessed.  That is what is important.
 


Note: Of the 142 blog posts I've written over the last few years, this is the first one in which none of the photography is mine.  My gratitude goes to Ronny Gunzenhauser, my niece's financé, who did an exceptional job documenting the procession.

I will be blogging about Holy Week from León and much more in the upcoming days.  If you would like to follow along and receive a notification when a new post appears, please subscribe by clicking here and entering your email address.

You can view my fine art photography website at:  www.tombellart.com.

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