So tomorrow starts Semana Santa, or “Holy Week”.
Spain’s most spectacular and solemn week, remembering the last week in the greatest story ever told:
How someone loved a miniature backwater of the universe so much, that He send his only son.
That this son, in the space suit of a human, showed humans how to live an ideal life. He showed how you could be a lion, courageously standing up against all authorities, from the Temple Leaders to the Pharisees to the Romans.
With the compass of honesty, righteousness, empathy and complete lack of fear, he stood up for the poor, ill, downtrodden, and showed how you could heal and improve just by the power of believing.
As any dangerous upset to the status quo, he was ridiculed, dragged through Jerusalem, nailed, tortured and killed. By all authorities, having all the media and power and bloodthirst as you would expect of authorities.
And that son took all the sins of humanity upon him, all the slavery and abuse, all the deceit and hypocrisy, all the suppression and ego and greed and jealousy and lust for control and small mindedness and carelessness – you name it; he took it all upon him. So that humans would no longer have to fear the wrath of God, but could find forgiveness and refreshment every day again.
Semana Santa starts with Palm Sunday, remembering the entry of Yeshua in Jerusalem, where he was welcomed by the poor and, on a donkey, further alienating those who eternally want to keep up with the Joneses.
Every day of this week follows the events or ambiance of the day that week.
It’s not entertainment. It’s duende. The yearly salute to a character that in all of history’s literature, of all freedom fighters, has no equal.
Of course there will be plenty of pharisees in the processions. Just like in the story. Of course there will be mockers in the streets, and ridicule in newspapers. Just like in the story. There’s nothing new under the sun. And that in itself, is why this week is so awesome.