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Via Crucis

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The Powerful and Deep Meaning of the Via Crucis for Latinos

Holy Week in Latin America has long been celebrated as both a national and spiritual event, deeply rooted in the region’s strong Roman Catholic tradition. For many countries, this sacred time is marked by solemn devotion and rich cultural expressions. Families take time to create the famous alfombras de aserrín—vibrant sawdust carpets—on the streets, which often take days to complete. Others take leave from work to cargar (carry) large religious processions featuring images of Christ at various moments of His Passion—such as Jesus at Gethsemane, or Jesus on the way to Golgotha.

During this week, daily life pauses. Businesses close, schools take breaks, and families gather to participate in local traditions: the burning of Judas, community vigils, and street vendors offering special “Holy Week foods,” all depending on one’s country and hometown customs.

At the heart of these traditions is the Via Crucis—the Way of the Cross on Good Friday. For many Latinos, this is more than just a reenactment of Christ’s suffering and death. It is a sacred, communal ritual that carries deep spiritual and cultural significance. Christ’s pain and journey resonate with the real-life struggles of many in our communities, particularly among those who are poor, immigrant, or marginalized. It reminds us that we are not alone in our suffering—that God walks with us.

In the USA, the preparation for the Via Crucis often engages the entire faith community. It becomes a powerful, intergenerational effort where everyone—children, teens, adults, and elders—has a role to play. In many Latino churches, during Holy Week, the Passion is brought to life through a dramatized procession. Streets, parking lots, or church grounds are transformed into a living Jerusalem.

A teenager typically portrays Jesus, carrying a wooden cross through the stations. Young girls act as the women of Jerusalem, weeping for Him. Even the youngest children may dress as Roman soldiers or members of the crowd. Participants learn specific lines and actions, immersing themselves in the story of Christ’s final journey.

The Via Crucis often takes place at dusk or after nightfall, with tiki torches or hand-held lanterns lighting the way. The final station usually includes the symbolic act of placing “Jesus” in the tomb—a moment that leaves a deep impression on all who witness it.

This living drama is more than tradition—it is a testimony. It reflects the strength and faith of a community that, while often facing adversity, remains steadfast in its commitment to God and to one another. The Via Crucis is an expression of resilience, identity, and reverence. Through it, we teach our children not just the story of Christ, but also the story of our people—a people who believe, who persevere, and who continue to walk with Christ, even on the hardest roads.

El Profundo y Poderoso Significado del Vía Crucis para los Latinos

La Semana Santa en América Latina ha sido celebrada por siglos como un evento tanto nacional como espiritual, profundamente arraigado en la tradición católica. En muchos países, este tiempo sagrado está marcado por una devoción solemne y expresiones culturales ricas. Las familias se toman el tiempo para crear las famosas alfombras de aserrín en las calles, que pueden tardar días en elaborarse. Otros piden permiso en el trabajo para cargar en las procesiones religiosas que llevan imágenes de Cristo en distintos momentos de su Pasión, como Jesús en Getsemaní o Jesús camino al Gólgota.

Durante esta semana, la vida cotidiana se detiene. Los negocios cierran, las escuelas descansan, y las familias se reúnen para participar en las tradiciones locales: la quema de Judas, vigilias comunitarias y vendedores ambulantes que ofrecen comidas típicas de Semana Santa, todo dependiendo del país y las costumbres del pueblo de origen.

En el centro de estas tradiciones está el Vía Crucis, el Camino de la Cruz en Viernes Santo. Para muchos latinos, no es solo una representación del sufrimiento y la muerte de Cristo. Es un ritual sagrado y comunitario que tiene un profundo significado espiritual y cultural. El dolor y la entrega de Cristo resuenan con las experiencias reales de muchos en nuestras comunidades, especialmente entre quienes enfrentan pobreza, migración o marginación. Nos recuerda que no estamos solos en nuestro sufrimiento—Dios camina con nosotros.

En Estados Unidos, la preparación del Vía Crucis a menudo involucra a toda la comunidad de fe. Se convierte en un esfuerzo intergeneracional donde todos—niños, adolescentes, adultos y personas mayores—tienen un papel importante. En muchas iglesias latinas,  durante la Semana Santa, se realiza una representación dramatizada de la Pasión. Las calles, los estacionamientos o los alrededores de la iglesia se transforman en una Jerusalén viviente.

Un adolescente suele interpretar a Jesús, cargando una cruz de madera a lo largo de las estaciones. Las niñas representan a las mujeres de Jerusalén, llorando por Él. Incluso los niños más pequeños participan, a veces vestidos como soldados romanos o miembros del pueblo. Cada participante aprende líneas y gestos específicos, y al hacerlo, encarnan e interiorizan la historia del último camino de Jesús.

El Vía Crucis suele realizarse al anochecer o entrada la noche, con antorchas o lámparas de mano que iluminan el recorrido. La estación final suele incluir el acto simbólico de colocar a “Jesús” en el sepulcro—un momento que conmueve profundamente a quienes lo presencian.

Este drama viviente no es solo una tradición—es un testimonio. Refleja la fuerza y la fe de una comunidad que, a pesar de las dificultades, permanece firme en su compromiso con Dios y entre sí. El Vía Crucis es una expresión de resistencia, identidad y reverencia. A través de este rito sagrado, transmitimos a nuestros hijos no solo la historia de Cristo, sino también la historia de nuestro pueblo—un pueblo que cree, que resiste, y que sigue caminando con Cristo, incluso en los caminos más difíciles.

Meanwhile…

We are in the throws of closing down after Moisture Festival and anticipate major withdrawal as our favorite chef moves on to bigger and better things. Let me explain.

Our daughter Carolina has been visiting while she fed the performers and volunteers who’ve created 29 cabaret-like variety shows downtown over 17 nights. We have loved being in her orbit even as Rob has faced the beginning of treatment for a recurrence of cancer. Such joyous life! Every day she leaves here in a different costume and returns with fabulous left-overs to feed us.

Our humble kitchen practically shivers in anticipation of her energy. It happily helps chop and bake and refrigerate her creations. And now in the aftermath, plastic bags having been cleaned for reuse, hang everywhere. Our center of nourishment settles and waits patiently for the next time she rolls through. Fortunately, she has taught me a few tricks but, Lord, the relative peace and quiet is tangible.

The Upside of Cancer (as if)

We’re on leave from choir so this is my first spring Sunday of journaling on the porch under a down comforter while the boys snooze. Hopefully we’ll actually go to short contemplative Eucharist service tonight – St Mark’s Cathedral in Seattle at 7 pm – where friend Mel Butler is the guest musician.

“Aunt Tater” – brand new nickname conceived during yesterday’s pop-up March Madness birthday party – surprised me with breakfast including lu-ma-mi (LUnes MArdes MIércoles, aka leftovers) of fruit salad and tits, oo I mean tots; bread pudding freshly created by my favorite chef for the morning crew at MF, aka Moisture Festival; PLUS whole cream in my coffee.

What could be better? OK, OK, we know what could be better.

Lent 2025 – Penny

March 5, 2025

Yes, I know I am behind. For the past four years I have posted every day in Lent, starting with an ashes photo.

This year though, Ash Wednesday fell between the days of Chemo Care Class and Rob’s first treatment for recurrence of bladder cancer. That and the reality that my mother turns 97 soon (with all the meaning that entails) makes it clear I will not be writing every day.

That doesn’t mean I am not observing Lent. As it turns out, the juxtaposition of these events, not to mention the darkness of our political scene, appears to be a way God is getting my attention about this holy season as never before.

I am grateful to have guest authors who may post here over these 40 days. May their presence here and in this world be a blessing to you as it is to me.

Dancing the Can-Can

After two weeks away in Cancún, we are remembering that favorite Obama slogan—“Yes, We Can!”—as Rob faces treatment for recurring cancer.

We’ll probably resurrect CaringBridge at some point to share medical details.

Super grateful for this time together and for our wonderful circle of friends and family who hold us.