Last week we learnt a new spanish phrase. Semana Santa. I had seen the word Semana before. While working in the kitchen at YWAM Mazatlan I had seen it come up a lot. It's the Spanish word for week. And Santa we had heard many times as we worship together on base and alternate between English and Spanish worship songs. Santa means Holy. The two combine for a beautiful phase "Holy Week" as we prepare to consider Christ and his death and resurrection. But the way people were using the phrase was not in a way that would inspire reverence and awe but a foreboding dread. "You think its busy and crazy now, just wait till Semana Santa"
Mazatlan is a party town. It seems like every weekend has some sort of celebration. Fireworks have been commonplace since we arrived here and it is loud. I mean lying-in-bed-at-night-and-you-can't-hear-yourself-think loud. Louder than our Bondi days. In fact, party hard Bondi seems like a retirement home compared to the late night volume here. So people come from all over Sinaloa and beyond to lose themselves and Senama Santa is like the party of parties. It doesn't seem very holy in Holy week. In fact its really easy to miss the Easter message completely.
Last night, things seemed a little quieter down our end of town as the party floats being pulled by tractors were up in the Tourist Zone and along with that most of the party crowd. So I decided to go for a sunset prayer walk along the malecon towards Olas Altas. It was Easter Saturday and I really connect with Jesus as I walk and pray.
As I walked and prayed I came near to the place where the cliff drivers risk life and limb (yes, even in the dark) and a range of food vans were doing a roaring trade. There was still plenty of people down this end of town. But I heard a sound. So different to the music pumping from the passing Pulmonias and Aurigas. I could recognise it anywhere. So I went in for a closer look and there in the midst of food vans, cliff diving crowds and domestic tourists a plenty, was a local church, worshiping Jesus with everything they had, engaging their local community in outreach.
I stayed and even attempted to sing along in English to the tunes I recognised. But in that moment I discovered Semana Santa afresh. It was a holy moment as I reflected that even though I didn't know a soul, I didn't know their salvation stories, I didn't know the words but Jesus had been and was growing his church in this party town. And that is a holy thing, that the resurrection of Jesus started something that is now in every language and nation and for his glory. Now that is a holy thought in a holy week. Happy Easter. Matt