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Highlights of semana santa in Tarragona

I spent several nights in Tarragona during semana santa last month and attended processions each evening, sometimes more than one. Each had its own character, but they were all distinguishable from the processions of the major cities of Andalusia for being more somber (less singing). When I told a man at the TI desk of my intentions, he tried to manage my expectations by saying that not only is there less singing than in Sevilla, some of the cofradias of Tarragona actually do silent processions.

The official slick brochure was mostly in Catalan, with a little Castellano at the front and back. There was a photocopy sheet of info in English, but the TI noted that not everything listed in the official schedule was mentioned on the English handout. This was a key difference between holy week in Tarragona and in Girona -- both are promoting their events to the wider tourist world, but Girona has practically turned into a show or performance for visitors, while many of the activities in Tarragona retain, for now, their sacramental and communal / local character. I felt obliged to respect the rituals in Tarragona, while the Girona crowds made a spectacle of the Passion.

Most processions were pretty loud, it turned out, starting with militates (Cast) / mannies (Cat) and ending with brass/woodwinds/drummers. In-between, the order within each cofradia was children first followed by adults, the guards of the icon/scene, the float itself, and then relevant officials/bigwigs, both religious and civil.

On Monday night the viacrucis though the upper part of the old town was under the authority of the cofradia of Sant Magi. Its route was relatively short, relatively cramped, and by far the most mystical / spiritual of the week. The hooded bearers wore traditional leather halters with hooks that attached them to the sides of the mobile ofrenda, and once they got into their swaying rhythm, it seemed more like they were being carried along by the icons than the other way 'round. Some points along the route were too narrow for bystanders. I would characterize the bystanders themselves more as congregants than as viewers. The lights and shadows thrown by the marchers on the high walls of the Part Alta gave the procession a dare-I-say-it spooky feeling.
Organization was done by hand signals, shouts, and horns. [Later in the week as things got fancier/more public, mobile phones were used, and for the slickest evenings there were security agent-style collar mics and earbuds]

Tuesday was the church of St. Francis' turn. They had the showcase route of the old town, going along the old rambla and up the main street connecting it to the cathedral and back around to their church. It had more floats with more artificial lighting, there were more non-Tarragonans on hand to watch, yet the procession was preceded by a very sincere Mass and many locals who I was imagining were either secular or from non-affiliated congregations showed their respect by giving this procession space, by not gawking. I was again impressed by the relative purity or lack of touristy elements to this ritual procession.

It was followed by a very special occasion. J. S. Bach's St. Matthew Passion was performed in the Tarragona Cathedral by a full orchestra and choir under the direction of Xavier Puig. A baroque musical masterpiece celebrated inside a baroque architectural masterpiece! This is worth a separate forum entry, which I'll try to post soon.

The next night was a contrast -- the procession started in the new town, west of the new rambla, and paraded back up the new rambla on its way back. It was much more friendly than somber, a chance for today's community to celebrate the holiday, their children, their bonds, and to welcome visitors to come and watch. Not very somber at all, it seemed to me. Families and friends greeted and waved at their members in the parade. Many organizers were young women, I assume schoolteachers.

Continued below

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The candlelight and shiny armor of that procession, under the church of St. John the Baptist, had to compete with the streetlights and store signage of the new rambla. Hi-visibility vested police were also needed to redirect vehicle traffic. I found myself thinking about my pockets and shoulder bag rather than grace and eternity. On my way back to old town, the tapas bars were busy with people who had concerns of their own.

Late (very late) that night the gypsy cofradia, from the parroquia de la Santissima Trinitat, held the Viacrucis De La Trinitat O Dels Gitanos. It tipped past spooky into the realm of the creepy. The route went round and round and round again in the most ancient part of the old town between the cathedral and the ruins of the Roman circus/theater/amphitheater complex. The loud but orderly drumming of the mannies stayed loud but got less and less orderly with each circuit. One got the impression that instead of lamenting the scenes of Jesus' humiliations people were starting to identify with the tormenters. People need an outlet, and there aren't Las Fallas monuments (so far as I know) at this point along the coast to give people a way to let off steam. They find other ways.

Any float that caught your eye could be viewed inside the church it belongs to during the day. Unlike Jesus and Santa Claus, I couldn't cover more than one town in the same night, so for the rest of holy week I had to go to the equivalent events in Girona, and missed out on the Tarragona version of Good Friday.

Apart from the Sant Magi procession, the value for me of these nights was more cultural than spiritual. Turned out the most spiritual moment of this trip for me was one I came upon accidentally : a vespers choir in the cloister of the purely gothic Basilica of the Immaculate Conception in Barcelona, which was relocated to the Eixample in the 1870s. It was the day after Easter, and the men's choir was chanting for the glory of God, since there were just a smattering of elderly congregants and one other tourist couple besides me there on the evening of the day after Easter. Their song carried through the cloister, simultaneously ethereal and nurturing, reminding us of the paradox of the divine incarnated, without either holding it over our heads or pressing it down on our shoulders. Big score for the Church, at least at that moment.

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The church in the Eixample was upgraded to basilica status in 2009 by Pope Benedict. The RS Barcelona book still calls it Church of the Holy Conception.
According to their online calendar the vespers was on Easter Sunday and on Monday the singing was a novena. For storytelling and memory purposes I'm just going to stick with the vespers.

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Very interesting and insightful. Your posts and point of view are always worthwhile.