Macarena

When the time comes each year to write this article on the main day of Holy Week, believe me, I feel the same emotion as you before the hours that lie ahead.. With everything we've seen, with everything we've felt until today, It was nothing but the prologue of how much from now on we are going to live. Until yesterday, Wednesday, we were still able to stop the time of Holy Week. From today it is time that dominates us. We will not stop doubting that the purple balance of the mystery of the Fifth Anguish tonight is true, and I do not say streets so as not to overcrowd; We will not stop doubting that the hands of the Lord of Passion exist, when will we doubt again that it is true that the Great Power is on the street… And this emotion that we all feel, the chronicler can never hide this day, that for many of us the Seville of Holy Week is like the shield of Miguel Mañara, a heart on fire, flames that will probably be the four torches of the mount of a Crucified in the albero-colored lights giving even more color of a bullring at night entering through the Arco del Postigo.

And I will tell you the reason for this inferiority that gives you the emotion before the white paper. Little can mean a few written words, a piece of the invented Seville of words, when those who read me are going to see in a few hours the other norm of Esperanza de Triana, or they will listen to the Silence, that this listening to Silence is pure San Juan de la Cruz with chapel music throughout the dark night in which the soul of Seville has the most light. We prepare for a renewed feeling, and it is that this afternoon, and especially tonight, We fine and cold Sevillians will never stop believing that everything we are seeing is true. The true faith of Seville, founded on the doubt of a joking people, is to believe that it is true so much beauty together. As it is true how much we Sevillians intuit, but now I'm going to dare to decipher: the absolute superiority of the Macarena. It is inaccurate to call Seville the land of the Holy Mary. Because Holy Mary, which has many proper names here, has a supreme name, a smile of pain, a cry of joy, a new profile every moment, the supreme grace, and that name is Macarena.

If there is something about Holy Week, it is that the town overwhelms. The capillitas have been around appearing all year. At Easter the figures run out. He takes a step out into the street and does not even send the Mitra, nor the counselor of Brotherhoods, nor the older brother, nor the Governing Board. And all the brotherhoods that overwhelm with the people all the schemes of power overwhelm them, at the same time, the Macarena. the wind is hurricane. Even the people themselves that at Easter overwhelm and erase the great sins of the city, the sins of the brotherhoods, erase the vanities, delete the arrogance; that own town is overwhelmed, at the same time, the Macarena. See this early morning the front of the pass, the empire of the glory of the name of Seville on the candlestick and the emerald clovers of Joselito el Gallo. rolling over.

Because the Macarena may be the very deified idea of ​​Seville that we all have. We can see Seville, idealized, fertilized land, Mother of Deities, face. That face of Seville is the face of La Macarena, in which we put all our complacency. The village, ahead rolling, erased all the sins of Seville. Behind the candlestick he left only Seville made perfection. Seville looked at itself, Daffodil in the mirror of the river, and seeing that such beauty could not be human, he named her Macarena. and did it, she made herself, Mother of God.

And that, that may sound like heresy, but that it is pure gospel written by the faith in the doubt of the people of Seville, It is what everyone knows and no one usually says. I heard it the other night, in a council of sevillanía, before a few glasses of red, on some papers of fried fish. A foreman was the supreme theologian of the town that overwhelms everything, even the Church itself, and he was telling me:

—The others are the Virgins. But the Macarena is the Mother of God…

Antonio Burgos / Easter boxes

Collected in the book “Sevilla hundred boxes”

www.antonioburgos.com

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