Theresa Albert
3 November 2014
Seville, Spain
Spring 2014
As I prepared to leave, I did my best to soak up as much information as I could about the
culture and history of Spain and Europe. I think I was hoping that a pitiful cramming session
would make up for my less than admirable devotion to the study of history and its effects on the
modern-day world. To be completely honest, at times I felt like there was so much information,
that my head was bound to explode. In the end, while preparing for my immersion was
beneficial, it could never have fully prepared me as I hoped it would. It was the vast number of
real-life experiences I had that truly helped me to learn. It was in normal everyday situations, that
I found myself discounting misconceptions I had not even realized I possessed. One of the
biggest misconceptions I had before living in Spain was how people in Seville view religion.
Before I went abroad, I heard that in Europe I would find beautiful, empty churches. I
knew the statistics, and I was under the impression that nobody in Spain would care about their
faith. However, while I did find many beautiful churches, many of them were full. It was a nice
surprise. One of my favorite churches was a five-minute walk from my house. It is a beautiful,
small parish called Saint Sebastian. It had five masses every Sunday and daily Mass twice a day,
every day of the week. On most Sundays, it was packed. Many times, during the service there
was not nearly enough room for everyone to sit. People were standing in the aisles and pouring
out of the back of the church. And when it rained, the majority would brave the elements on foot,
just to get to mass.
1
Part of the beauty of being Catholic is having the ability to be able to go to almost
anywhere in the world, and know you will be able to find a place where mass will be
celebrated. Of course, every parish and every country worships a little differently. Language,
music and seating arrangements are bound to be different from one place to another. But despite
this, the most important parts of mass are the same everywhere.
But sometimes it is those little things that can either make us feel included or left out. I
spent most of my time in Seville trying to acclimate myself to the Spaniard way of worship.
Unfortunately, for a lot of the time, I felt quite overwhelmed. There was often a mix of knowing
exactly what was happening (the Readings, the Gospel, the Offertory etc.) and at the same time
not having a clue as to what was going on. However, whenever it came time for the
Consecration, I always knew exactly what was happening. I didn't need a translator, a dictionary
or a culture guide. In those instants, thousands of miles from Michigan, I was home.
Another important part of religion in Seville is called Semana Santa, or Holy Week. For
hundreds of years, each parish has had between 1 and 3 statues depicting moments from Christ's
passion and death that they carried to the Cathedral on their assigned day. The processions can
last between four and twelve hours depending on how far away the church is from the
Cathedral. Throughout the week, there are more than fifty processions. Many of the
parishioners walk with the processions, and for each procession, there are hundreds of
participants. They are called nazarenos and wear long robes and carry long candles. The robes
cover everything but their eyes, and they are complete with a pointy hood. Most of the time,
people from the United States are a little put off by the nazarenos because their attire is
somewhat similar to members of the Ku Klux Klan. However, these two groups are completely
2
unrelated. The nazarenos were around hundreds of years before the KKK and their reasons for
dressing the way they do are completely distinct.
Well, I guess their reasons are the same. They both want to conceal their identity, but the
nazarenos are not committing crimes. They conceal their faces because the walk to the Cathedral
should be offered as a sacrifice to God. They hide themselves so that God is the only one who
sees them. Some nazarenos also go barefoot and/or carry crosses. This is symbolic of following
Christ's example and taking up our own crosses in life. But unlike the Ku Klux Klan, they are
not violent in any way.
While I was learning about these traditions, I really was not sure what I would think.
One thing people told me before Semana Santa was that there would be people all along the
street drinking and laughing. The idea of this bugged me a lot. I pictured a penitential journey
surrounded by debauchery and irreverence, but that's not what it was. Yes, there were people
drinking, eating and laughing. The processions are a really social time. However, what I
realized was that this atmosphere was similar to what you would have experienced if you had
walked the Way of the Cross with Jesus on that first Good Friday. The reality is that people
were not at a church service that day. Crucifixions were entertainment. So while the processions
of Semana Santa are not necessarily the greatest place for quiet contemplation, it is an awesome
experience if you want to understand a little more what it would have been like to be in a crowd
on the way to Calvary. Furthermore, when the statues go by, there is a reverent hush that falls
over the crowd. Most people stop their conversations and focus on the image that passes them.
This leads me to my next point. The thing I was most afraid of during Semana Santa was
that the behavior toward the statues would be idolatrous. I thought this because I heard that
people had certain statues of Mary that they liked better than others, or that people try to touch
3
the statues as they go by because it is considered good luck. That all just sounded a bit weird to
me, and not at all in line with Church teaching. But as I was standing in the crowd while the
statues passed by in front of me it did not seem as though the behavior was idolatrous. It is
entirely possible that someone there was worshiping the statues, but that was in no way, shape or
form the purpose of the processions.
The purpose of the processions is to help Christians visualize what happened to
Christ. To see a life-like replica of Christ carrying his cross can send chills running down one’s
spine. There is really no way to describe it. It just makes you understand more deeply the reality
of what happened. Looking at the expression of his mother, it is like we are there and we can
feel her sorrow. Because whether you believe Mary was sinless or not, whether you think she
was ever-virgin or had thirteen kids, you cannot deny that she felt pain when she saw Jesus
suffer. The Bible tells us she was there until the end, a model of devotion. She was human, and
that was her son. He was hurting, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Of course she
was in pain, but she stayed with him despite this. In the end, I came to the conclusion that it is
not the statues themselves that are important. It is the devotion to God they inspire. They help
people to understand the life of Christ, in the same way that the words in the Bible do.
Living in Spain forced me to reevaluate how I understand religion. It was a valuable
experience that helped me to recognize both the similarities and the differences between Catholic
churches in the United States and in Spain.
4