Thrones Of Semana Santa

Two Films That Are Simply Meant To Take You Away From That Digital Hum Where Nothing Much Really Happens; (Catholicism Is Simply Astonishing)

One of the most staggering experiences of my life was when I found myself in Granada, Spain, in 2017, visiting my son, when all of a sudden Semana Santa broke out on the streets, by turns, beginning with trumpets, parade floats, billowing incense; These were just parts of the rehearsal processions—glimpsed here and there, seeming almost like hallucinations.

I had no idea what it was, or what it was turning in to.

We are so digitized, our emphases so fragmented, that I managed to be in Granada, during Easter week, and not know this.

(What is Semana Santa?)

My son had suffered a very serious injury in a rock climbing accident, requiring multiple surgeries, and we were mostly back and forth to the hospital, neither of us entirely clear why they were erecting bleachers as though for a sporting event, right beneath my son’s window.

(My son’s window happens to overlook La Catedral in Granada, which becomes significant later.) We were very preoccupied, if that’s any excuse.

The Spanish medical system, incidentally, was so utterly beautiful, the way they saved my son’s leg, through three surgeries and extended physical rehabilitation (guess the cost in comments—you will not believe it.) (Ok, I’ll tell you: The cost was $0.00.)

I could write thousands of words about this but I want to post this while it’s still Easter Sunday. (2 more minutes.)

On Easter Sunday, I stood with the crowds on cobblestone streets, taking hundreds of photos and videos, and wishing I had the flair and confidence to be a travel writer—to write about what I was witnessing. Instead I just recorded, on the phone and in my mind and pushed it off into a space called “too incredible to describe. Maybe one day.”

I think the time has come for me to begin sharing some of those photos and videos I took that day, but first, I invited you to watch this short film, “Thones of Semana Santa.”

(I also invite you to refrain 100% from any and all discussions about the Catholic faith, unless it’s either supportive or inquiring.)

All we are doing here is dropping our jaws over the Spanish tradition of Semana Santa and why we never heard much about it. (Obvious answer: This tradition is the Enemy of Globalism, so, people—thank your lucky stars for the Catholic faith, in all of its “obsessiveness” and pageantry. When that’s gone, if that’s ever ‘gone,’ I believe we stand defenseless against the NWO. )

In any case, toward evening, that magical day, my phone had long since died, and I drew back toward my son’s apartment in the Cathedral square, across from La Catedral (as in, right across from it, a stone’s throw.)

I wondered why half of Spain seemed also to be walking toward my son’s apartment.

After this video below, I’ll post the video I shot when I managed to get upstairs—filmed from his balcony. It turned out: The Cathedral where my son happened to be living was the very destination of the procession! Front row balcony seats. What are the chances?

The music…listen to the music.

What is it?

Where did it come from?

These questions refer to the video I will post after this one below, which shows how profound Semana Santa is. This video, against all odds, was shot by me on my cell phone. I am hardly ever anywhere interesting, not anymore. But on Easter Sunday 2017, I was in the exact right place to behold something unlike anything I’ve ever seen in my life. For me, it only makes me love the Catholic faith more and more. And I mean the faith, not the history. I mean the passion. The dedication. The beauty. The fidelity. The symbolism.

Wow. Just: Wow.

My video, #1:

Postscript:

More on the “Brotherhoods” here.

I know nothing, really, about any of this. Might it have roots that are troublesome?

What’s up with those hoods?

I have no idea. I am only, repeat, only, saying I found it fascinating. I hope this does not upset people. To me it was a story of a nation state expressing itself as itself in a way that I would have thought the EU had already diluted or even done away with.

I also have a photo essay called “The Doors of Andalusia.”

It’s just doors—all doors.