By NOIGILER
Added: Tue, 26 Apr 2011 20:46:03 UTC

A recent experience helped me viscerally appreciate Jessica Ahlquist's tribulations in Rhode Island and compels me to share. The common theme is those of faith trying to impose their beliefs on non- (or different-) believers.

My wife and I recently visited our daughter, studying abroad in Madrid. We timed our trip to coincide with her spring break, which happened to be the week before Easter. On Saturday, the day before Easter, our daughter decided to take us to a famous spot for churros dipped in melted chocolate. As we approached the restaurant, we found ourselves in a throng of worshippers following one of the many "processions" that took place during the week, recreating Jesus' resurrection.

The crowd was thick: 10-15 deep on either side of a narrow street, completely filling the sidewalks between police barricades on the street and the buildings behind. The vast majority of the observers were 65 or older. Quite a few were in wheelchairs, on crutches, wearing slings, or exhibiting other forms of debilitation which I suspect they were hoping would be cured by watching the procession. Mixed in with the observers—maybe ¼ of those on the street—were pedestrians simply trying to get down the street.

We were swept along with the crowd, moving slowly down the street at pace with the procession. When the procession stopped for some finale, so did the crowd. We found ourselves trapped and unable to move. Recognizing that this was a solemn event for the observers, we waited patiently for about 30 minutes. With microscopic movements, we neared the back of the crowd, within two rows of worshippers from escaping down a perpendicular alley to our churro destination.

My daughter was able to slip into the alley, but my wife and I could not. I politely asked a gentleman if I could squeeze by. He responded by gesturing toward the procession as if to say I had to watch. Almost as if previously choreographed, a group of elderly gentlemen closed ranks with him—shoulder to shoulder—to keep me and others from passing them to the open alley behind. Again, I asked to pass, "por favor." One of the gentlemen, finger in my face, said, "No pasar." It was clear to me at that point that the only conceivable reason for blocking my way was righteous indignation that I was not paying attention to the theater taking place on the street.

Having had enough, I took my wife's hand, said "Hang on!", put my other arm between two of the men, and squeezed my way through the zealots' cordon. This upset them terribly, and a posse of 6 or 7 elderly men came at me, fists feebly swinging. I was rather shocked by this scene and simply held up a forearm and let them peck away as I backed off. This commotion caught the attention of two police officers who, on the exhortations of the posse (I didn't understand what they were saying, but their hand gestures suggested I had done some really terrible things!) took my arm and held me. My daughter, fluent in Spanish, and a bystander, who, like us, was simply trying to pass through the crowd (and followed in my wake to get through the back row) explained to the police that I had done nothing wrong; that it was the elderly men who had decided to get violent. The police—far younger, calmer, and rational than the spectators—released me immediately. The woman then apologized to me, although she had no reason to. She said, "Most Spanish people are very nice" which had been our experience thus far in our trip. "But," she continued, "the older generation--they're crazy with religion."

I don't know if I was most stunned by the determination of the older observers to make me watch the procession; their violence when I chose not to; or the irony--repeated endlessly throughout the history of religion--of claiming a peaceful belief yet being all too quick to violence against those with different beliefs (or none at all). Although I don't share their (or any) godly beliefs, I was totally fine with their observance and found the procession ceremony quite interesting from a sociological standpoint. I took numerous pictures of fervent participants. But my patience quickly wore thin when others tried to assert their beliefs on me.

Later that night, I wondered: What if those elderly fanatics were younger, stronger, faster, and perhaps armed? I began to shake.

By the way, the churros and chocolate were terrific.

TAGGED: RELIGION