Corpus Christi Sunday

The usual Sunday morning routine of services at Almuñecár and then Nerja. At the end of the second service in San Miguel we were aware of unusual activity outside. Tables were carried into the street from the church's side rooms, several people were out with brooms, sweeping the street and the plaza in front of the church, and a muslin canopy was erected above an area where the two tables had been placed, next to the wall of a building. It wasn't clear at the time what was the purpose of this. It was only later in the afternoon, when I returned to the church to witness the Corpus Christi procession that it became clear what was the purpose of this. 

A temporary altar shrine had been created, to be the first stop for prayer on the processional route. The air was scented with mint, cut from gardens or fields, spread on the ground and trodden under foot. The Mass in church was half way through. I watched from the threshold of the church. Inside it was packed, and a guitar led choir was singing a Mass setting with a Latin American flavour. All the children admitted to Communion for the first time this year were present in their uniforms or dresses. They participated enthusiastically. Outside, the local band, mostly youngsters assembled in readiness, and the Guardia Civil's procession team waited in the background.

Rather than one of the two parish priests carry the Sacrament, it was mounted on a trona, carried high by a dozen people. The procession wound its way through the streets and eventually out of the barrio across into the central area of town and down to San Salvador, with several prayer and rest stops on the way, some in streets where there were other altar stations, and in those streets balconies were also hung with beautiful table cloths or counterpanes in decoration, to honour the Lord's passing by.

The last two stations were outside the clergy house of San Salvador and then one in the plaza outside the church. The children carried baskets of rose petals, and these were sparingly scattered along the route, until we got to the clergy house, where the red carpet, covered with sprigs of mind was further embellished with a generous dose of red petals, a lovely sight in the evening light.

Finally the Parish Priest retrieved the monstrance from the trona, and give Benediction to the five hundred strong gathering and took the sacrament into church under a processional canopy. I slipped in behind them to join in adoration as the Sacrament was being returned home to the tabernacle. The sacristan from San Miguel, to whom I'd spoken earlier in the day, enquiring about the start time, saw me and came over to greet me, with a look that said 'How did you enjoy it?' Estamos in el cielo, I responded. I found it very moving, such a relaxed cordial family yet devout occasion, involving people of all ages. There were people with walking frames as well as those in push chairs following in the processions, and people socialised as much as they prayed.

Such processions are less than commonplace in modern Britain in our era, despite efforts to revive the custom in some places. Really, the reformation robbed public life of this kind of religious and social ritual, with such power to bond people together in peace and love. We do very well with all kinds of carnival processions instead these days, but it's not really the same. It may mean a great party, but it's only a party. Making a sacred space out in the streets means so much more for the good of a society. You can follow the procession in photographs here.