Not Time, Yet
It was described as the second weirdest festival by The Guardian in 2008, right after the mud festival at Boryeong in South Korea. To those who are not Catholic (and even quite a few Catholics), visiting Santa Marta de Ribarteme on its feast day, July 29th, is a sight to make you think you've fallen through Alice's looking glass.
Normally, when someone asks a saint for a favor, they then go to the festival of that saint carrying a votive candle, as a way of thanking the saint for having answered their prayers. But Santa Marta is special. She was the sister of Lazarus and Mary Magdalen, and is now the patron saint of those about to die. In the New Testament, there are a couple of stories about her. When Jesus visited their house once, Mary sat by Jesus and listened to him talk. Martha bustled about in the kitchen and was put out that her sister didn't help. Another time, when Lazarus had died and Jesus asked to be taken to his tomb, Martha declared that it was now too late and nothing could be done after four days. She was the more common sensical of the two sisters. Since she knew life had its earthly business to attend to, she is now the go-to saint on prolonging it just a little bit more.
So, those who put their life in her hands when things go wrong and death stares them in the face, give their thanks differently than simply lighting a candle and going to her Mass. They lie in open coffins and then are transported around the church in a procession after Mass. Sometimes the coffin is closed, and the person in question walks next to it. Sometimes, perhaps the threat wasn't quite as grave, and the person who has offered himself walks barefoot in a gauzy penitent's robe or even crawls on his knees in the procession. But it must be impressive to see three or four coffins being carried amidst a multitude of worshippers, each with a person inside. If the sun is shining, as it was this year, the person has a fan or carries an umbrella.
The coffins can be rented from the church's sancristán, the caretaker and priest's helper. Apparently, each person pays what they can. No one is denied their thanksgiving to Santa Marta because of lack of money. The people who do this do it as an act of faith. They truly believe the saint saved their lives when they called upon her, and are giving their most sincere thank yous. The origins are thought to be pagan, and a way of placating the god of the dead, who was robbed of a person from his shadowy kingdom. Of course, outsiders see this as very macabre. But it's not the only procession with coffins, though the most popular, with thousands of people.
In Pobra do Caramiñal, straight down the road from here, maybe twenty kilometers as the crow flies, there is the procession of coffins every September, during the festival dedicated to the Nazarene. Here, people follow their coffin, dressed in purple robes and carrying a votive candle. This tradition is said to be from the fifteenth century, when the then small fishing town was continuously under attack from bandits swooping down from the hills above it. Four of the band were supposedly caught, and the mayor (or other government official at that time) condemned them to death. But the mayor got deathly ill, and ordered a coffin built, convinced he would die. A day later, he recuperated, gave his coffin as an offering in the procession, which was that day, and had the four condemned men carry it. After the procession, grateful for his delivery, he pardoned the four men. But that is just a story. The true origins are probably the same as Santa Marta's.
Death is still close to the living, here. However much we may have adopted modern ways of living, pilgrimages and festivals such as these remind us of what our ancestors were always aware of; the Grim Reaper awaits.
Normally, when someone asks a saint for a favor, they then go to the festival of that saint carrying a votive candle, as a way of thanking the saint for having answered their prayers. But Santa Marta is special. She was the sister of Lazarus and Mary Magdalen, and is now the patron saint of those about to die. In the New Testament, there are a couple of stories about her. When Jesus visited their house once, Mary sat by Jesus and listened to him talk. Martha bustled about in the kitchen and was put out that her sister didn't help. Another time, when Lazarus had died and Jesus asked to be taken to his tomb, Martha declared that it was now too late and nothing could be done after four days. She was the more common sensical of the two sisters. Since she knew life had its earthly business to attend to, she is now the go-to saint on prolonging it just a little bit more.
So, those who put their life in her hands when things go wrong and death stares them in the face, give their thanks differently than simply lighting a candle and going to her Mass. They lie in open coffins and then are transported around the church in a procession after Mass. Sometimes the coffin is closed, and the person in question walks next to it. Sometimes, perhaps the threat wasn't quite as grave, and the person who has offered himself walks barefoot in a gauzy penitent's robe or even crawls on his knees in the procession. But it must be impressive to see three or four coffins being carried amidst a multitude of worshippers, each with a person inside. If the sun is shining, as it was this year, the person has a fan or carries an umbrella.The coffins can be rented from the church's sancristán, the caretaker and priest's helper. Apparently, each person pays what they can. No one is denied their thanksgiving to Santa Marta because of lack of money. The people who do this do it as an act of faith. They truly believe the saint saved their lives when they called upon her, and are giving their most sincere thank yous. The origins are thought to be pagan, and a way of placating the god of the dead, who was robbed of a person from his shadowy kingdom. Of course, outsiders see this as very macabre. But it's not the only procession with coffins, though the most popular, with thousands of people.
In Pobra do Caramiñal, straight down the road from here, maybe twenty kilometers as the crow flies, there is the procession of coffins every September, during the festival dedicated to the Nazarene. Here, people follow their coffin, dressed in purple robes and carrying a votive candle. This tradition is said to be from the fifteenth century, when the then small fishing town was continuously under attack from bandits swooping down from the hills above it. Four of the band were supposedly caught, and the mayor (or other government official at that time) condemned them to death. But the mayor got deathly ill, and ordered a coffin built, convinced he would die. A day later, he recuperated, gave his coffin as an offering in the procession, which was that day, and had the four condemned men carry it. After the procession, grateful for his delivery, he pardoned the four men. But that is just a story. The true origins are probably the same as Santa Marta's.
Death is still close to the living, here. However much we may have adopted modern ways of living, pilgrimages and festivals such as these remind us of what our ancestors were always aware of; the Grim Reaper awaits.
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