La Virgen del Carmen y La Virgen de la Saleta

This weekend marked an important religious celebration in Raxó, La Virgen del Carmen y La Virgen de la Saleta.  Spain is an overwhelmingly Catholic country (you may have heard of the Spanish Inquisition), and within Spain the region of Galicia tends to be a bit more conservative and old-fashioned than the country as a whole, and thus the Church still plays an important role here.

La Virgen del Carmen (note the fisherman iconography)

For those who may not be familiar with Catholicism, it is very common for Catholics to pray to particular saints in lieu of God/Jesus Christ, as most Christians do.  (I read an article once that cited a poll taken amongst Catholics in Italy--Jesus Christ was only the sixth most popular figure to whom Catholics prayed.)  Spanish culture, though patriarchal and occasionally victim to machismo, is a culture in which the men have deep love and reverence to women, particularly their mothers.  Consequently, several of the most important saints to Spanish Catholics are women.  La Virgen del Carmen is the patron saint of marineros (sailors/mariners/fishermen et al.), and since Galicia as a whole (and Raxó in paticular) is so dependent on the ocean for its livelihood, Carmen is an important, oft-invoked figure for local Catholics.  Saleta, meanwhile, is the patron saint of Raxó; together these two figures were celebrated this weekend, and Emily and I attended mass on Sunday to observe the celebration.

La Virgen de la Saleta

While I was raised Catholic, I rejected a lot of the beliefs and practices of the Catholic Church at a young age (my mom allowed me to stop attending CCD after my first Communion), and have been effectively without religion for about the last 12 or 13 years.  While my beliefs now are closer to atheism than anything, I am still very interested in religion and believe in the edifying principles that many of them retain (at their best).  I approached Sunday's mass in that vein, and found myself able to enjoy a Catholic mass for the first time in a long time (even Emily, a professed-hater of all things organized religion, enjoyed herself).

The mass was held in the larger of two small churches in Raxó, the larger/newer one was built to accommodate crowds that the smaller/older church could not hold.  (The older church, probably over 100 years old now, is the same church my mom, aunt, and grandparents were baptized in [and also where my grandparents were married.])  When we arrived, Emily and I found seats behind Manolo and Margarita (Chelo and Gonzalo were also there, in a more crowded section).  Priests in Spain, I was told later, have a habit of speaking very, very slowly, as if each word is a measured and calculated decision; fortunately for me, this meant that I could understand almost the entire sermon, even after the booming acoustics and priest's proclivity to avoid the microphone were factored in.  In addition to the celebration of the two saints, a young girl was also taking her first Holy Communion, so there was an added air of celebration in the church.

In the priest's sermon, he asked us to look at the statue of Carmen and notice her tears; he said that Carmen cried because she knew the state of life on earth--that it was a life of pain and suffering, but that the suffering was necessary because it reminded Man of the salvation that was to come in heaven.  He spoke about this for a while, before smiling slightly and gesturing to the young girl that, on her first Communion, neither God nor Carmen wanted her to be sad, and that it was a cause for happiness and celebration that she was entering the Church.  The priest also reminded the congregation that people often have a tendency to elevate money to a godly status, revering it in our daily lives, but that ultimately money could not give the kind of spiritual fulfillment that Man needed (a notion that, I'm sure, was not lost on this economically-devastated country).  The themes were easy to appreciate in a non-religious way.

The church also had an incredible choir, one man's voice in particular was utterly gorgeous.  After the sermon, the statues of the virgins are carried by men past the cemetery and around the town a bit, before returning back to the church.  The whole congregation marches along, followed by a band composed of drummers and bagpipers (similar to the Feira Franca video) in traditional Galego clothing.

Carrying Carmen (Gonzalo facing the camera)

Carrying Saleta (Manolo holding the back right, turned from camera in between two priests)

Marching past the cemetery (my grandfather's mausoleum is the one being blocked by the tall crucifix)

Young girls in church dresses listening to the band

After we made it back to the church, the band continued to play for a while and then fireworks were shot off in celebration.  It was a lovely festivity.  I'll get some video links up on YouTube soon of the march, check back.

Fireworks