A Devoted Keystone…

Infinite feelings, like emotions. To the rhythm of an out of tune drum and drumsticks. Short and to the point… this is the processional feeling of the people of León.

‘Sewn’ to the heart of a people which lives like few the «Week of Ten Days». As if we did not have enough here with the weekly calendar, as if it were not enough for us here to bless the palms and, just seven days later, to hang them on the godfathers’ balconies to receive the coveted prize of the chocolate Easter egg… This «Week of Ten Days”, that one of Resurrection, will protect us —if God wants and sure He will — during a whole year waiting to bless the palms again. Almost nothing to pull together in our beloved procession again, to squeeze the boss again, to enjoy the rhythmic stroll again, to flutter and to vituperate… to live, passionately, the «Week of Ten Days «.

Multicolored entourages, different faces of a polyhedron that each one interprets, lives and enjoys in his particular treble clef… under the moon, the first full moon of spring. That moon that marks, like the ring in the bell gable, a light sleep of illusions… A kaleidoscope of emotions —like the stained glass windows of La Pulchra—, that is the Holy Week in León.

Drawn in brushstrokes of out of tune drums and merciless bugles breaking dawns; sketched in shared struggles and rhythmic steps; shaped up in solitude tears… León squeezed together processions, meetings and denials… at the break of dawn!

Dressed with mantilla and comb, bare feet and patent-leather shoes, impeccable jet black tunics which opened chests days before; from aroma to incense… resurrected evocations.

An old Kingdom that rallies around León’s Cathedral of obligatory paponil homage (members of the Dulce Nombre de Jesús Nazareno brotherhood). Locus Apelationis on Tuesday of Forgiveness, blessed bread in the last cenacle, fire and water, eternally renewed life on Saturday of Hope…; the light sleep of Thursday feeling the dawn of Friday; raised cross and processional candle holders; Nazarene crying out to heaven… «from whom every León’s person yearns to be Simon of Cyrene helping Him»… (E.V.). It has been written by a papona and it is every spring fulfilled, like the dreams that come true when the ‘black dressed’ brothers of the Dulce Nombre de Jesús Nazareno brotherhood —those of St. Nonia—, put the city in procession…

Raised cross and processional candle holders… Olive tree rocking at the edge of the garden; Capture of Jesus awakening emotions next to the Benedictine lattice almost caressed by the whip of the hangman; Cutting Coronation and ‘balcony scene’ of Ecce Homo; Balance of Exaltation, Crucifixion and Agony; True Icon and Silence of the stripped Christ…; St. John standing, one more Friday, under the arches at the moment that it can be almost distinguishable the Dolorosa Virgin down the steep slope… Majestic Her .. attention-getting poles, Mater wrapped up with a blazoned mantle, with the crowded square, a cramped city… rallying around the procession.

León sounds like a Nazarene
Like a Cross of the sky…
Like a prayer in St. Martin…
Like a pitchfork in St. Cruz…
On the shoulder of a purple heart, it walks slowly a dark skinned Christ…
León sounds… like a Nazarene!

Like a shared entourage, like doughnuts with sweet wine, like impeccably uniformed escorts —with spotless white gloves… ‘guarding’ the emotions—. Windshields and lanterns on; flags, pennants and bosses that count, one and a thousand times, hundreds of pulling stories…
León sounds like… offered penances.

To the rhythm of an out of tune drum and drumsticks… the people of León —like La Pulchra— welcomes the procession, with hood and mantilla, pulling together… infinite illusions.
Congratulations!

 

– Javier Fernández Zardón –

Town crier of León’s Holy Week 2018