"A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another." 

John 13:34

I was raised Catholic - church every Sunday, first communion, confession, confirmation - the whole sha-bang. Didn't stick. (Except for Lent, my annual 40 day cheese and sugar sabbatical.) But after what I witnessed in the ancient streets of Spain, I may be back. Semana Santa, Holy Week in Latin American countries, is a site that has the power to bring faith to any soul. 
 
 Ihad work in Spain and took advantage of the timing to head to Seville first for what is known as the most impressive Semana Santa in the country. My dear college friend Melissa, who met me in France last year, was with me once again. 
 
Sevilla is an ancient city in deep southern Spain, founded by Romans, long ruled by Muslims, who influenced and shaped architecture, food and attitudes. It's filled with colored tiles, keyhole doorways, tapas, sangria and vino tinto, intimate bars with no chairs that spill out into the streets. Multi-generation families sit down for dinner at midnight. Hints of Flamenco dancing and bull fighting are everywhere. It's one of the sexiest places on earth, filled with drop dead gorgeous people.

But that is not what's on locals' minds this week. See, in 1248 Seville became a part of the Christian Kingdom of Castile, and the fun was over. Semana Santa is all about repenting sins, pious thoughts, and suffering. Lots of suffering. Semana Santa is the week leading up to Easter and is a tribute to the Passion of Jesus Christ, his last days in Jerusalem up to his crucifixion. 

There are no eggs, bunny rabbits or Peeps here. This is about deep tradition and true devotion. I knew these would be days filled with spectacle, but I had no idea. 

We arrived on Maundy Thursday, the day that commemorates the Last Supper, and headed into the labyrinth that is Old Seville. First thing we saw were women of all ages arm in arm with handsome men, dressed head to toe in smart black dresses with the traditional black lace mantilla worn over their head and shoulders, propped up with a high ornamental comb, a peineta, placed in a bun of their perfect thick black hair.  

They soon became normal when we started to see figures in bright purple robes with tall coned head masks to the sky come out of the woodwork. Then we heard the band.

So, this is what happens. Every day that week, brotherhoods from each church perform penance processions from their church, through the narrow cobblestoned streets of Seville, to the cathedral and back. The doors open, someone sings from a balcony above, and hundreds of Nazarenos, or penitents, silently exit in their colored robes (different for each brotherhood), carrying long candles, flags, or huge crosses, many barefoot. 

The long robes and tall hooded masks, capirote, are so each person can repent in anonymity, the tall cone reaching towards the heavens. Next are the alter boys and girls, passing out candy and small cards of the Virgin Mary.  

Then the main show begins - the delicate exit of the Paso. The Paso is a two ton, SUV-sized gilded float covered in tall candles and flowers, depicting a life-sized scene of the Passion or a grieving Mary. A hidden team of 24-54 bold men, costaleros, carry it from underneath upon their shoulders and necks. From a distance, it looks like Fred Flintstone and his buddies driving a motor home. They are guided by voice by the capataz, and a ceremonial hammer, el llamador. 
 
There are literally only centimeters of space to get this through the church doors. We got so close to one, there wasn't enough room for me to lift my camera, it brushed my nose. The costaleros rest every 50 yards or so. And when they do, they do so on their knees. Three knocks of the hammer announces it's time to go again, as they literally jump from the ground and proceed. 

The Paso is followed by a full band playing funeral-themed music as they weave through the streets lined with hoards of people watching from the edges and balconies, waiting to catch a glimpse. We were in one crowd so thick, we literally could not move. It took us an hour to go a few blocks.  
 
The procession eventually arrives at the 16th century Seville Cathedral and makes its way up the nave and out through the Door of Forgiveness, then they are on their way back to their home church. Somehow we walked right into the Cathedral and found a seat on the floor to watch as they turned the corner. It was dark in there, candles glowed, wax dripped, voices hushed, incense smoke permeated. It was gorgeous, we could not believe our eyes. 

Day and night, multiple processions crisscross town, some with three Pasos, and many last up to 14 hours. It makes crossing the street impossible. As the sun goes down, thousands of candles are lit, creating a trail of wax on the stones below, and a yellow glow blankets all of Seville. There is a quiet, reflective, and reverent energy in the air.

The festivities go on until dawn and start again at 1pm the next day. We could hear them all night out the window. Good Friday and Holy Saturday - rinse and repeat. On Easter Sunday, there is one procession - the Resurrection Paso - when the music cheers up and the spirits lift. Because, you know, Jesus. He's back!

I have never seen anything quite like this, but the experience lived up to what I had imagined.Watching the Paso leave a church is incredibly moving, it will bring tears to many eyes. There is such pride in the men, women, boys and girls who participate. There is true discomfort and suffering - did I mention it was nearly 90*? And those robes are polyester. The ritual is taken very seriously and has been since the 1500's. We noted that this would happen, with or without the crowds, it is no tourist show. This is devotion for a faith, for a tradition. 
 
And while this was all incredible, Easter signifies one other monumental moment - Lent is over. My 40 days of cheese and sugar denial can come to an end. And when in Spain, this means manchego and helado. Mucho manchego y helando, at midnight. The heavens open, angels sing, sugar levels rise, and cheese, once again, reigns supreme. 

"Christ the Lord is risen today, Sons of men and angels say. Raise your joys and triumphs high; Sing, ye heavens, and earth reply."
 
– Reverend Charles Wesley