PREGON - HOLY WEEK 2010 -VILLAFÁFILA MRS. MARÍA MARCOS SALVADOR

Gentlemen of the Holy Week Board, Madam Mayor, members of the Excellency City Council, parish priest of the Church of Santa María, dear countrymen and foreigners, this afternoon I place myself among you with surprise for me and surely for many due to the unexpectedness of the position, with gratitude because it is not hidden from me how much this offer means for trust, deference and affection, but as Cervantes left us written "do not attribute the received favors to your merits, but give thanks to heaven that disposes things like this" .

I anticipate this Passion Week to announce to you what is always new, although repeated: the rebirth of spring, light and life because proclaiming, originally means promulgating aloud and in public places something that everyone should know , because the proclamation is not an academic speech, nor a conference, nor a catechesis and I have not pronounced any in my life.

Although I am sure of one thing about my fondest memories in Villafáfila: my family, my friends and the celebrations such as Holy Week that began with Palm Sunday, which, according to tradition, whoever does not premiere has neither feet nor hands, and where the triumphant entry of Jesus into Jerusalem as lord and master even though on Good Friday Pilate is asked to crucify him.

In any case, our Holy Week is unique, although it is not the richest, nor the most artistic, nor the brightest, but it is ours, the one we love, the one that brings us happy memories of transit between childhood and youth, an initiation rite to maturity living in the peñas with our friends and maintaining the traditions of our ancestors in all aspects, both religious and recreational, all are an intrinsic part of our particular culture.

I am María, I was born here, you know me as the daughter of Fabri la Marula and Pepito el de los Osorio, and although I left when I was three years old I have never left the town, I have continued to come every summer to the house of my aunts and uncles, I know the salt mines, the alameda, the road pedaled by bike and I even had the honor of going to Zamora with the typical dress in which my great-grandmother got married representing the town with other girls.

My family has tried not to lose our roots and I can assure you that at home it was a rare day when my parents did not talk about the town or tell us anecdotes, sometimes sad, most of them very funny and always extremely enriching.

Fortunately, I have been able to visit all the festivals and also experience and experience processions: on Wednesday the Christ of Mercy, I almost always enter this church through the side door and there he is, with open arms to welcome us to his home and I always remember the anonymous from the 17th century like this church and many of its images, allow me to recite it

It doesn't move me, not even God, to love you

The Heaven that you have promised me:

nor does hell move me so feared

to stop offending you.

You move me, sir; move me to see you

Nailed to a cross and mocked;

it moves me to see your body so wounded;

move me your insults and your death.

Move me, finally, your love, and in such a way,

that even if there was no sky, I would love you,

And even if there was no hell, I was afraid of you.

you don't have to give me because I love you;

Well, even though how much I wait, it doesn't wait,

the same that I love you, I would like you.

This year the tradition of removing the Christ from the Vera Cruz is recovered with the route that was done in the past, I am happy and allow me to congratulate the Board for such a magnificent idea, since the Brotherhood is typically a week-old and dates back to at least 1571. It is always good to recover traditions, they enrich us as people and as a group.

On Friday we all wait for Mary, Saint John and the Nazarene, as an image that comes from the church of San Martín, represents Christ on the way to Calvary, his face downcast, resigned, with the cross on his shoulders, he knows he is going to die. It is the most revered, most beloved image of our people, it is asked of it, it is begged of it, promises are made to it.

At night the procession of Las Angustias, no one like mothers who have lost a child know what this mother's pain is; This image comes from the church of San Pedro as the Christ of the Urn and that every four years the descent from the cross and its subsequent burial is dramatized, as in our lives, as in our families, the whole town does it together.

But let's not forget the most awaited moment, the procession of the Encounter, all pending the inclinations after a long morning, chocolate with churros, some brandy, all typical, as traditional as the octopus on Good Friday, always well roasted according to my aunts.

But on Saturday, the Soledad procession was the most endearing for me, my participation the first time had a great impact on me, although my mother had told us so many times, living it is something else: all the women in mourning, accompanying the Virgin in silence, no matter the cold or the rain, Soledad cannot, we do not want to leave her alone, it is the solidarity of women, mothers, daughters, sisters, all equal, all together.

Now, immediately after the auction of the Saints, everything is part of the tradition, like the processions, like Villafáfila's tendency to go to night, so much so that in the 18th century they threatened us with excommunication if we finished them before nightfall or if the unmarried young men persisted in getting together in gangs and making noises at night to go out to fuck.

When we celebrate the resurrection next Sunday, surely we will all have been able to live this week with intensity and sharing with our countrymen will have made us better people, more noble, closer, more human.

Holy Week lasts seven days, Easter fifty but very soon, as soon as a year has passed it will be Holy Week again, we will be together again, participating in our tradition with all that it entails, including lemonade, everything unites us, everything leads us to live.

Thank you very much for your attention, for your care, for your affection, because my roots are here, my mother is buried here, because I am from Villafáfila.

Maria Marcos Salvador.

28 March 2010, Villafáfila

Author:

Jose Luis Dominguez Martinez.

“With all my affection and thanks to Ms. María Marcos Salvador”.

Text:

Mrs. Maria Marcos Salvador.

Herald of Holy Week 2010

Photography:

Jose Luis Dominguez Martinez.

Transcription and montage:

Jose Luis Dominguez Martinez.

All text, photographs, transcription and montage, the rights belong to their authors, any type of use is prohibited without authorization.

All text and photography has been authorized for storage, treatment, work, transcription and assembly to José Luis Domínguez Martínez, its dissemination on villafafila.net, and any other means that is authorized.