Spain is a trip. After listening to the church bell striking midnight, I headed down past a few lively bars and heard some muffled music. There were a bunch of really hot looking men all about my age, mostly with white towels wrapped around their head. The majority were stuck under the wooden frame of an unfinished float, wedged in tightly as if they were poverty stricken European pioneers in the hold of some dreadful ship bringing them to the new world; except it was upside down, wedged onto their heads and braced by their arms. They shuffled slowly and in time to the music, and looked like they were a sort of chain gang or bunch of prisoners in matrix configuration (a rough guess would be 7 men wide and 10 or 12 long ...would mean 70 men squashed into a tiny space, which seems unbelievable, but perhaps necessary, considering the weight of the thing on their heads...) Ha ha - would have been hard to tell they were a bunch of attractive guys my age, looking like that, but the ones walking alongside or in front helping to direct the practice session, brought that to my attention.
After writing my last post, I left to meet Kathy and Savas. I was going to be early so I stopped into the other church in Plaza San Lorenzo, the older one. It was about 8:30, and the church had a lot of people sitting, as well as others entering. This one had Jesus. There was a man waiting to wipe his hand off as people kissed it. A small string orchestra and choir were playing, and incense was fogging the place up. Jesus was in a kind of alcove, and this time he was standing straight up, with his hands crossed in front of him; not the normal hunched over with the cross on his back stance. Behind him were him again, and a Virgen. All of them were surrounded by loads of precisely lined up and mounded fresh red flowers. The Virgen and Jesus behind were strikingly clothed (statues with clothes on - as they usually are here). The place was really alive. But alive with such an ancient and odd thing. I have never seen any kind of church, anywhere like this. It didn't really seem like a mass or service in particular was happening. There was just stuff going on inside the church and people were listening, walking in, sitting, kneeling, praying, paying limosnas (alms or whatever). Protestant churches of all descriptions are so orderly, even the hallelujah-ing ones. They always know what they are supposed to be doing there, and it is all very clear in their minds - either singing hymns or getting crazy, directed by someone and extremely purposeful, and starts and ends properly at an identifiable point in time. Here, maybe there is order, but it felt like something else was going on. It is like our friend last night said; this is some gut level human expression. It is about the art, not about theology. It is about the beauty of the statue that expresses so clearly the feelings of Jesus as he was carrying the cross down the road for miles, about the intensity of the red flowers and the care with which they've been placed there by the people. It is not a mental thing that is happening here. It isn't a belief system that comes from the mind, like the religion I am used to.
We got to Torres Macarena on the dot, like a bunch of foreigners. They told us at the door that the show would be starting 3/4 of an hour later than what was advertised. Again I was riveted by the cantaora. I liked her Tientos and Siguiriyas best.
Jesus and the Virgen are everywhere. Just up from Cristo del Buen Fin street is Jesus del Gran Poder, a much larger, longer and important street. I think I would translate this as "Almighty Jesus" street. The word poder can mean power, but it is a multi-use word, most often meaning "to be able to" or "can". Santa Ana street is the closest cross street to my apartment on Cristo del Buen Fin.
Posters say "Hermandad of our padre (father) Jesus the ... (fill in the blank with a quality of Jesus)". As far as I know, Jesus was the son. I think they're a bit confused here. Often the posters advertising some kind of religious function involving the Virgen, say "(something - the type of function) of the Virgen in her solemn sadness".
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