Semana Santa is why I was in Guatemala in the spring of 2001. Antigua holds one of the largest Easter celebrations in the Western Hemisphere, second only to Seville, Spain. One professional photographer claims that it is the most photographed event in the world, and I think you will see why. (I certainly did my part. Kodak would be proud.)

Antigua was once the capital of Guatemala and was named Santiago de Guatemala at the time. A devastating earthquake razed the city in 1773, and in response to it, presidential decree moved the capital to Guatemala City and changed the name of Santiago to La Antigua Guatemala (the old Guatemala) in 1774. Many ancient ruins of buildings and churches still exist in Antigua today, and earthquakes continue to rattle the foundations of town.

Semana Santa is Spanish for Holy Week and refers to Easter Week, the most important holiday in Central America, where Christmas receives considerably less attention than it does in the United States. Semana Santa is a festive event, yet the participants never forget what they are commemorating. The processions become more solemn as the week progresses.

Semana Santa involves year-round work and planning by thousands of men and women. More than 500,000 visitors were expected in Antigua for Semana Santa in 2001, and if you listen to the constant travelers’ advisories, you would think half must be pickpockets and thieves. My experience, though, was that with reasonable care and attentiveness, the likelihood of running into trouble was small in relation to the excitement and spectacle of the week.

Processions and holy vigils, called velaciones, are at the heart of Semana Santa. Both involve floats and a special type of carpets. Floats are large platforms with sculptures of the specific religious figures involved. The sculptures are housed in the churches and available to view close up during Semana Santa. The carpets are made out of pine needles, colored sawdust or sand, flowers, and flower petals. Church officials make carpets for holy vigils, while the friends and family of the house or business that the procession is passing make street carpets. A great deal of planning and effort goes into the carpet making, creating beautiful designs and images. The only rule is that there may not be any advertising in them. A local chicken dinner restaurant tried to test this rule a few years ago. Since the carpets are generally not completed until right before the procession passes over them, they got away with it that time. But the owner of the business was visited by high-ranking officials of Semana Santa the following year and strongly reminded not to advertise again, and so ended the ads.

The carpets are done for each procession, and there are three processions on Good Friday alone. Since some pass on the same streets, the first carpet is the most ornate, with the next several being simpler designs because of the limited time to prepare them. The practice of making carpets waned in the 1970s because of another bad earthquake and again in the 1980s because Guatemala was in a civil war. But they are coming back strong today as peace has arrived and people are a little less impoverished.

I arrived in Antigua the day before Palm Sunday and settled into my hotel. I don’t know why I felt so driven to experience Semana Santa. I consider myself to be a spiritual person but not necessarily in terms of church-type religion. But when I feel a strong and persistent desire to do something, I generally assume there is a reason for it and proceed. I guess I’m just a spiritual thrill seeker at heart.

Palm Sunday was the first procession I saw. The procession began at La Merced Church to commemorate Jesus’s entering Jerusalem. Purple-robed men, who apply for the positions months in advance and actually have to pay money for the honor, carried a giant platform into the street. The platform, or float, carries the statue of Jesús Nazareno, as he’s called in Santiago (among other names as well), or Jesus of Nazareth, and weighs 7,000 pounds! Eighty men carry the float at a time and are regularly replaced by others as the procession winds through town for almost twelve hours. A total of 4,000 carriers are needed to carry the float for that long. Younger men swing large pots of copal incense a block in front of the procession, making it appear as if Jesús is floating by on a cloud of sweet smoke.

The Jesús float is followed by a smaller float of the Virgen de Dolores (the Virgin Mary) and is carried completely by women. People line the streets watching the procession pass right over the delicate carpets, destroying them in the process. After a procession passes over a carpet, it’s considered to be blessed and to hold magic powers, so many of the flowers and larger makings are picked up by the spectators. Smaller floats of Maria Magdalena (Mary Magdalene), and San Juan (St. John), follow the float of Dolores. At the end of the procession is a small marching band playing various funeral marches. Apparently no prior musical experience is required to play in the band.

The Holy Vigil was held at La Merced on Monday, with the church bells tolling the funeral announcement during the evening in anticipation of what lay ahead. The crowds became intense at times and people were tightly sandwiched near the carpet and altar. If I had passed out for some reason when I finally reached the carpet, I don’t believe anyone would have known because I couldn’t even have fallen down. When I arrived at the front of the church, I thanked God for the many privileges and gifts he bestows on me, then reminded him that if there are any miracles to be handed out this Easter, I try to keep myself open and ready.

Tuesday’s velacione was held at San Francisco Church, a centuries-old building on the other side of town from La Merced. Again the church bell tolled the funeral announcement. I checked my e-mail on the way to the church since that’s one way my family would attempt to contact me if any emergencies arose at home. Thankfully there were no emergencies, but I did have several messages from some friends in Colorado who also have MS. It turns out there is a doctor in Guatemala who claims to ‘heal’ MS. I heard the rumor before leaving for Guatemala but was unable to get any information. A woman from Ft. Collins attended a meeting to talk to the MS group while I was gone who had just completed the three-month live-in program in Guatemala City. MRIs of her brain before and after completion of the Guatemala program showed that several lesions had disappeared completely, and all of the remaining ones were substantially smaller. Most importantly, most symptoms had abated. The treatment involves taking a variety of herbs and completely eliminating dairy products and alcohol. (If that doesn’t sound familiar, read the "Rebirth" section of My Story elsewhere on this Web site). I was left with at least a hundred questions, but I also now had the doctor’s address and the name and phone number of the patient who was treated. Several other people from Colorado have also begun the treatment. I will begin to research it right away. Cure or snake oil? Tuesday’s velacione was particularly reverent and filled with deep thanksgiving from me.

The official schedule shows only a velacione for Wednesday, but it turned out that there is a short procession on that day as well. While the floats, or platforms, appeared to be the same size as those on Palm Sunday, all of the sculptures are smaller--and are carried by kids! I just happened to be at La Merced Church in early afternoon when kids began arriving in purple robes. That was my first clue. I was on my way to Escuela de Cristo Church for Wednesday’s velacione, but when I was done, I scurried back to La Merced. The procession had just left the church at about 2:30 p.m. but I didn’t chase it down, so I didn’t get to see much. It turned out that there are a number of different schedules printed for Semana Santa, and it was on one I didn’t have. If you attend the Holy Week festivities, be sure to ask questions at the Inguat office, which is the tourist information office, located right on Central Park. It’s not a secret. I almost got the feeling that this was training for the kids, and it would be fun to catch if you get the scoop. The velacione at La Escuela contained the usual carpet and statutes on display. I found that going in the daytime avoids the crowd crunching, though it doesn’t have quite the aura of the nighttime activities.

Thursday the processions resume in earnest as several happen at the same time. I watched the one that left San Francisco Church at 1:00 p.m. Another procession left San Cristobal el Bajo Church at about the same time. Both wound through town until well past midnight, but most people didn’t sleep that night anyway. This is the night that the most fantastic carpets are made for the procession leaving La Merced Church at 6:00 a.m. on Friday. Thursday night at 2:00 a.m. is also when men dressed as Roman soldiers leave La Merced on horseback and wind through town. They stop at various corners, announced with drums and trumpets, and read Jesús’s sentence of death by crucifixion to the crowd. Central Park had large crowds all night.

Friday morning’s procession left La Merced at 6:00 a.m., as Jesús was being taken to his death. The events became more solemn now. More statues were added to the procession, but Jesús now stood alone on his platform. The cross he carried was not as ornate as the ones he bore earlier in the week. At noon Friday, different statues would be crucified at three separate churches before processions began at each and wound through town until past midnight again.

I chose to attend the crucifixion ceremony at Escuela de Cristo Church, though there were several others. They have ten separate floats representing the Stations of the Cross depicting different scenes from the crucifixion, and they certainly bring it home. I entered the church late and the statue of Jesús was already on the cross. A long line of worshipers waited to rub his feet and calves with a piece of cotton and say a short prayer. I stood before him and asked God’s forgiveness for what we humans did to his son, because what we do to any of his children we do to him. I knew this request for forgiveness wasn’t necessary, but the brutality of it all humbled and embarrassed me to be human. Some women wept openly. (I don’t mean to be sexist, but if you think us Norté Americáno men are macho…)

The procession from Escuela de Cristo Church began in late afternoon, and at approximately the same time they also began from San Jose Cathedral and San Felipe Church. All wound through town until the early morning hours. The standard purple robes of the carriers had miraculously turned black. (I guess they could have changed robes, but I was thinking in terms of miracles by now.) Dolores wore a beautiful and intricately designed dress. The procession grew substantially with the Stations of the Cross mentioned a moment ago, a court of archangels, Pontius Pilate’s sentence on a scroll, several saints, and others. An interesting fact I learned is that the roles of Pontius Pilate and Judas Iscariot are the only two paid positions in all of Semana Santa because it’s the only way they can get anyone to fill them. As mentioned already, everybody else has to pay to be involved. When the procession ended, the sculpture of Señor Sepultado (as Jesús is renamed after crucifixion) in his glass coffin was removed from the float and placed inside the church, where he is viewed throughout the year.

Two processions occur on Saturday to honor the Virgen de Dolores. She is said to be searching the streets of Antigua for her son. These are the most solemn of all the processions and a good bit smaller in size than the others. The band is just a few instruments, but with many more drums sounding a slow march. The women carriers and Dolores are again dressed in black, with Dolores’s dress containing no designs this time.

Easter Sunday also has two processions. The first began at 2:00 a.m. on a farm outside of town. It worked its way into town to San Francisco Church, then returned to the farm. Christ may have been rising at 2:00 a.m., but I was sleeping in. I was exhausted after a week of this. I clearly wanted to experience Semana Santa, not just observe it, but my Christ rose and presented himself at a more reasonable 1:00 p.m. at San Pedro Church. The procession was just one float with Jesús Cristo, a kneeling woman whom I didn’t recognize (presumably Dolores), and a few angels on it. It was announced by men bugling in conch shells and the usual cloud of copal incense. When the float appeared through the doors of the church, the crowd went wild. They clapped and cheered for the first time all week and set off whole strings of firecrackers in the streets. The band began a rousing rendition of "Glory Glory Hallelujah" as the float began its journey through Antigua, and people began singing aloud.

And with that Semana Santa ended. It had moved me much more than I expected. Most Christians have heard the crucifixion story throughout our lives, but seeing it acted out in front of me made it much more real and personal for me. I am blessed to have been able to experience it, and to get through it without anything bad happening to me or around me. I’m sure the pickpockets are real, but practicing caution was apparently all that was necessary. The Guatemalans were wonderful and the foreigners generally well behaved. The children provided some of the most memorable scenes with their wide-eyed wonder. Seeing fathers dressed in the robes of the processions carrying babies also dressed in the same tiny robes I won’t soon forget.

I’m the first to admit that much of what I’ve done in Central America is the intellectual pursuit of spirituality, which isn’t necessarily spiritual at all. But this Holy Week visit was more than that for me, and seeing Semana Santa was very moving. I guess in the end I am more bolstered in my feelings toward humanity than embarrassed by all we’ve done, and that realization alone is a great gift for me to receive. What I witnessed in Antigua was a purely Catholic event. To understand some of the differences in how Easter is celebrated by the Tzutujil in Santiago, which has a much more Mayan bent, visit Cofradía Semana Santa on this site. Now I’m off to Guatemala City to talk to a man about a cure (or buy some snake oil, at least.)

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This page last updated on 07/16/01