Semana Santa in Tegucigalpa

“There were always people hanging around, natives and tourists alike,
waiting for the latest tidbit on most anything” (Acts: 17:21)

Semana Santa in Tegucigalpa culminates in the procession of the sarcophaguses on Good Friday. Easter morning is less important. In fact, most people take advantage of the time off to head to the coast and miss church on Sunday. Good Friday draws foreigners and locals to the town square to see the beautiful fombras, made of sawdust, which the funeral procession will walk across on their march through the city.

With our desire to immerse ourselves in Honduran culture, Rey, Elijah and I sat in the town square with everyone else awaiting dusk and the beginning of the procession. Every bench, every railing, every stair became a seat for someone. A one-legged man preached with a horse voice to an inattentive crowd. Sharp, young Mormon missionaries extended a hand in greeting…until they learned we were in a similar profession. A barefoot man with wild hair and beard muttered loudly to himself and drew attention. Blond gringas stood out in their vacation attire. A homeless woman, eight months pregnant, covered her face as she sat on the street. Honduran children with stocking caps to protect themselves from the “cold front” ran and played and got into trouble.

Finally the procession began, with tiki torches and solemn men in black. A 20 foot, intricately designed coffin slowly worked its way out of the mouth of the cathedral, and its carriers strained under the weight. The sarcophagus had a gothic design and a prominent symbol displayed: a flaming eye in the middle of a triangle. On each corner perched a paper-maché angel, its mouth open in agony. At the site of this coffin a little shiver ran down my spine.

The funeral procession began and I looked around for Jesus.

The town square was bursting with clashing ideas, spiritual expressions and yearnings. Was Jesus here among us? What would he do if he was? Would he address the crowd: “Uh, no need for the coffin, I’m actually alive!” or sit down with individuals? Which ministers of the gospel would he praise, which would he rebuke? Whose needs would he meet, whom would he challenge?

The same spirit that was in Jesus supposedly now resides in me. But I was at a loss, did not engage, only observed. This, I am sure, is something that Jesus would not do.