We are on a wonderful journey right now, Alex and I, a five-week vacation that began in Malaga, Spain, and continued through the beautiful Sierra National Park in Andalusia, and tomorrow we arrive in Seville, the hometown of his mother, and where all of his maternal relatives--aunts, uncles, cousins--still live. For Alex, tomorrow is a dream come true, because he will finally be able to experience Holy Week, Semana Santa, in Seville. According to just about every reference I could find, no town does Semana Santa quite like Seville, Spain. For those of you who have no idea what I am talking about, Holy Week is the week leading up to Easter: for Christians, the biggest, most important, most significant religious holiday because it is the day Christ defeated death, and rose from the dead. In Spain, and particularly in the province of Andalusia, and ESPECIALLY in the city of Seville, Holy Week (Semana Santa in Spanish), festivities go back centuries. Population of the city swells 100-fold, there are spectacular processions from churches and cathedrals with thousands of participants in costumes, carrying gilded floats and statues weighing thousands of pounds. There will be singing and mournful brass bands and penitents and many rituals dating back to the 15th century. It is quite a spectacle, and a once in a lifetime experience.
Alex's family is very involved in Semana Santa--it is part of their culture, their rich heritage. And we will be there visiting, part of the family, part of the festivities for the entire week. To many who will be there this week, Semana Santa is just another tourist attraction, another spectacle. To others, it may be an integral part of their lives, and a key part of their faith; perhaps many find spiritual meaning in the brotherhoods and the statues and the processions and the other rituals. But to me, I want to observe and enjoy it, knowing it is, at the core, memorializing the Passion of Jesus Christ--from Palm Sunday, to the Last Supper on Holy Thursday, to his crucifixion on Good Friday, and finally to His glorious resurrection on Easter Sunday.
I am so excited, but I am a bit nervous. Not because I fear I will be caught up in "idol worship," as my daughter fretted a few months ago when she discovered we would be in Seville during this event. But because I truly hate large crowds, and because I am not fluent enough in Spanish to be able to express my feelings about my faith. All the pomp and circumstance, all the flowers, the gold, the silver, the candles, the music, the noise...if all of that brings glory to our Lord, then all is not lost. I cannot close my eyes or lock myself in a room and avoid every single contact with questionable religious events or festivities. I must believe that my faith is strong enough to withstand this "test," if that's what you want to call it. Because there are a lot of tests...after Semana Santa, we go to India to see the grandkids, and then we will be in Cambodia to tour Angkor Wat, the largest religious monument in the world. Being on this extended holiday is more of a strengthening of my faith than a test of my faith, as I witness God's beauty and creation and love in the people we meet. The true test of my faith comes when I am back home, and not experiencing anything wonderful or frightening or special, when I am taking my waking up each morning for granted. THAT is when life can eat at away at your faith.
"Praise the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits" Psalm 103:2
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