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I missed
the deposition from the cross (if there was one), but I caught the crowd of
mourners at Piazza Sant’ Anna on its way to Via Roma and a church draped in purple
and white, where a mezzo soprano sang a doleful aria from a first
floor balcony. Very moving, actually.
The main event, however, was a solemn funeral cortege that
had begun at 15:00 at the Chiesa di S. Maria la Nova (1534-82) in another quarter of the city and would conclude there late
Friday evening.
This particular procession is an annual Easter event organized by the church's Confraternita’ di Maria SS Addolorata ai Cassari, founded in 1755, who are the custodians of an enormous glass catafalque that contains a statue of Cristo Morto (the dead Christ) prostrate in death, and a bigger-than-life-size statue of the Addolorata (Virgin Mary in mourning), dressed in funereal purple and black, who follows his catafalque in the procession.
No one has calculated how much these statues
weigh, but suffice it to say that each statue is carried by 40 strong men--ten
per side, so 20 in front and 20 in back—and they still struggle!
This particular procession is an annual Easter event organized by the church's Confraternita’ di Maria SS Addolorata ai Cassari, founded in 1755, who are the custodians of an enormous glass catafalque that contains a statue of Cristo Morto (the dead Christ) prostrate in death, and a bigger-than-life-size statue of the Addolorata (Virgin Mary in mourning), dressed in funereal purple and black, who follows his catafalque in the procession.
There is a
leader who marches alongside and clicks a kind of castanet to tell the porters
when to set the statues down and when to hoist them again. The procession travels a
good long way through the streets of Palermo--exhausting labors recalling the stations
of the cross depicted in panels on the catafalque.
Participating
in the procession this year were Carabinieri
(elite Italian national police), looking very Napoleonic,
a musical group from Enna (a city to the east about 1.5 hours away) and a band from Caltanisetta (a city to the southeast about 2 hours away); parishioners dressed in monk’s robes carrying candles or dressed as Roman soldiers; priests, laymen, and altar boys from the Chiesa; members of the Confraternita’; and other enthusiasts who joined the throng along the way.
At 11:00
p.m. we headed to the Chiesa di S. Francesco di Assisi (1255), our favorite neighborhood church, to do some anthropological research on Sicilian Easter: the Veglia Pasqua (the Mass in anticipation of the Resurrection). We entered the Gothic church in almost total darkness, save for the lights on the central columns that delineated the nave and two lovely statues of the virtues by Serpotta.
The apse was draped in a huge blue velvet curtain, concealing the altar decorated with white Easter lilies and the large painted wooden crucifix behind. We had been handed slim candles as we entered the church and were told these would be lit at Midnight, at the end of the Mass, when the curtain would drop and the church would be flooded with light, symbolizing the Resurrection: "He is arisen! Christ is the light of the world!"
Well, Christ must have been on Sicilian time, because Midnight came and went with the five priests and many parishioners (lots of women--yay!) droning on from the lectern with their Old and New Testament readings. The Resurrection didn't happen until 12:30 a.m., a half hour late, with the dramatic curtain fall. (Thanks to my husband for the video.) But, then again, as they say in Sicily, you aren't really late until the 31st minute, so we're all good!
The large candle on the altar was used to light the other three (symbolizing the three crosses on Calvary?), and then four priests came through the nave and side aisles to light our candles. Finally, the head priest came down the nave, sprinkling us with holy water from his aspergillum (yes, there is a word for everything!).
a musical group from Enna (a city to the east about 1.5 hours away) and a band from Caltanisetta (a city to the southeast about 2 hours away); parishioners dressed in monk’s robes carrying candles or dressed as Roman soldiers; priests, laymen, and altar boys from the Chiesa; members of the Confraternita’; and other enthusiasts who joined the throng along the way.
The apse was draped in a huge blue velvet curtain, concealing the altar decorated with white Easter lilies and the large painted wooden crucifix behind. We had been handed slim candles as we entered the church and were told these would be lit at Midnight, at the end of the Mass, when the curtain would drop and the church would be flooded with light, symbolizing the Resurrection: "He is arisen! Christ is the light of the world!"
Well, Christ must have been on Sicilian time, because Midnight came and went with the five priests and many parishioners (lots of women--yay!) droning on from the lectern with their Old and New Testament readings. The Resurrection didn't happen until 12:30 a.m., a half hour late, with the dramatic curtain fall. (Thanks to my husband for the video.) But, then again, as they say in Sicily, you aren't really late until the 31st minute, so we're all good!
The large candle on the altar was used to light the other three (symbolizing the three crosses on Calvary?), and then four priests came through the nave and side aisles to light our candles. Finally, the head priest came down the nave, sprinkling us with holy water from his aspergillum (yes, there is a word for everything!).
And that
was that. As we exited the church, we
could hear a buzz from the bars and cafes in the adjacent streets and
piazzas. I can report that there were
many more people wetting their whistles with cocktails at 1:00 a.m. than there
were getting wet from an aspergillum.
Keep it
real! And Happy Easter!
Marilyn
thanks Marilyn, so interesting.
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