Good Friday

This evening was the longest and most solemn of all the Easter processions. The paper said it would start at 5. As I walked down to the Oratorio, the church where it was to begin, the streets were blocked off to traffic, and already lined with hundreds of people, most of them Mexican, many of them middle class tourists from Mexico City. As at all these events, there were families with small children and older relatives, groups of teens: boys with boys, girls with girls; and pairs of young lovers sprinkled charmingly throughout.

At about 6:00, the procession began. Chamomile flowers were strewn in the streets, the fresh, sweet fragrance blending with the cooking smells from the nearby vendors, and incence from the church. Then came plaster angels bourne on platforms piled with flowers, followed by an orchestra and male choir, followed by bigger angels, Jesus in a glass casket, grieving Mary, St. Peter, grieving Mary Magdelene and more saints. All the women who accompanied the saints were dressed in black dresses and high heels, with black lace mantillas, and the men wore black suits. There were the ever-present young girls in white, this time with purple sashes. Essentially, this was the funeral procession after Jesus' death on the cross.

As always at these processions, I find myself thinking about the staging, which the Catholics have down to a fine art, but also I am impressed with how moving the ceremonies are, and how attached the people are here to these traditions, which have been practised in these ways for over three hundred years. I feel the grief of Mary. I wonder about the Magdalen, and what her story really was, and what about Jesus, what was his story really? The ceremonies allow one to spend time really thinking about what happened, and why it is all still so meaningful and relevant, or not.

The procession was very long and very slow. After it finished passing, I went around to a couple other streets, to see it from different angles. The crowd was thick, and I couldn't get up close, without having claustrophobia, so I hung back. I had hoped to run into friends, but never did. At about 8:00, after a good stint of people-watching, I headed up to the Jardin, which was packed like I have never seen it before! Everyone ready to party after all that solemnity and mourning. I watched the clown show for a few minutes, and still not seeing anyone I knew (this has never happened before in the Jardin, which tells you how many people were out tonight) I made my was slowly home in the dusk.

I find myself falling deeper and deeper in love with these people.