My memories of Holy Week
Monday, April 3, 2023
*Victor Martell
Holy Week has always brought me many memories because I was born into a Catholic family in which the liturgy was always taken into consideration. However, we not only honored the liturgy of the Church, but also the "liturgy" that my grandmother imposed.
Palm Sunday
Very early, my mother would dress me up to go to my grandmother's house. I was still sleepy because she would go to the first morning Mass, at 7 o'clock. What I liked the most was that we received the blessed palms. I liked to play with them since I was just a child, and my grandmother would pinch me because I was moving around inside the church. Once Mass was over, we would return to grandmother's house because later on, between Masses, two or three priests who were friends of the family would come over for breakfast. I always remember an old, chubby priest because he would eat all the pastries.
Old people would fall asleep during the reading of the Passion, but if I did, I received another pinch, and if I cried it was worse. I had to endure in silence, but I would fall asleep again until they read the part about the Lord's death, when I was awakened by the sound of the hidden altar boys seemingly stomping their feet.
The procession was impressive, and everyone wanted to be in the lead; my grandmother would push me so that we could take the first spots. One Sunday, when I was a teenager in Havana, I showed up at home with my palm wrapped around my neck, and they almost killed me. I remember that people made incredible handicrafts with the palms, which they gave to the children to distract them, and they also were used as ornaments in the house. Keep in mind that you had to keep the blessed palms all year long until Ash Wednesday of the following year, because we were told that getting rid of them was considered a sin.
Holy Monday
Nothing could be done, so you didn’t dare go to the beach or plan a trip! When I was older, I organized an outing with my friends because we didn't have classes. But I had to cancel it because my mother warned me that if I went on the trip, I would have to renounce the Catholic faith. All the town festivities were suspended; the “zona rosa” (nightlife district) was closed and the sale of liquor was forbidden. Couples in the park talked in hushed voices, and didn't even kiss.
Holy Tuesday
We were early for church again because it was the day for confession. However, I first had to confess my sins at home. Even though I was young, they made me reveal if I had slapped the chubby kid at school or if I was the one who threw a spitball at the teacher's back while she was writing on the blackboard. We were not allowed to eat meat, only fish, and the grown-ups had to fast. There was sadness in the house because music was not played, only the occasional soap opera on the radio.
Holy Wednesday
I remember the Procession of the Nazarene. We would go early to church with my grandmother to help prepare and decorate the monument. Our parish was the cathedral, but all the churches would compete to be the best. We were all at home because there were no classes, but we didn't go out to play in the street. We had to observe those days.
Holy Thursday
This was the day to visit the various Altars of Repose for the Blessed Sacrament. We went to all the churches in town, and how beautiful were the many lit candles, hanging draperies and flowers! My dad had his feet washed, and I especially marveled at the priest coming down from the sanctuary. The chrism Mass was celebrated early in the morning with the bishop and all the priests of the town.
Good Friday
This was a sad day! We did not light the stove in my house. The Way of the Cross took place inside the church, where we visited all the small scenes placed around the temple. People hardly talked to each other. They wouldn't let me play with my little soldiers, because it was a war thing. People prayed a rosary; I think it was called "Rosario de Pésame a María" (Rosary of Sympathy to Mary). What I liked the least was the famous sermon of the Seven Last Words, for which they always brought a priest who made people cry — I cried too, but because I wanted to go home. There were no visits that day; everyone went home.
Holy Saturday
I remember there was no Mass this day, so I did not get up early to go to church. However, everyone was getting ready to participate in the dances that would take place all over town, in the richest halls and in the poorest ones, as well. People went out to dance and to drink, since celebrations and the sale of liquor resumed.
Easter Sunday
Oh, what a celebration! We all greeted each other at Mass, music returned, and everyone congratulated one another, repeating, "Christ is risen!" The altar was covered with beautiful flowers, and everybody wore their Sunday best. After Mass, we would go to my grandmother's house for the traditional Resurrection lunch. We would sit at a long table in the courtyard, which was full of people. Some were relatives, and others would show up and exclaim, "My family!" and take a seat.
What really caught my attention, even as a little boy, was that my grandmother would bring three or four of the beggars who asked for alms outside the church, and they would sit at the table with us, smelly and all. This stuck with me all my life. Maybe that is where my vocation to serve the poor comes from, because she taught me that they were the personification of Jesus.
All of this has changed a lot. Even though, in general terms, our great Church tradition continues, I wish the changes had never taken place, and that we would have continued with all that took place in those days. Today, in my old age, I long for those years. I thank God and my Church for having lived them.
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