During Seville’s breathtaking Holy Week, each paso (float) tells a story not only from the Gospel but also from the hearts of those who have kept the tradition alive. Among the many mysteries that parade through the streets on Holy Monday, one detail often catches the eye and stirs the heart—the single red rose placed beneath the right hand of Christ in the mystery of the Hermandad de Santa Marta.
This paso, which portrays the moment when the body of Jesus is being carried to the tomb by Nicodemus, Joseph of Arimathea, and Mary Magdalene, is deeply moving in its silence and solemnity. It also includes figures such as the Virgin of Sorrows (Virgen de las Penas), Saint Martha, Saint John the Evangelist, Mary Salome, and Mary Cleophas. Amid the sea of purple irises, one red rose quietly stands out—a symbol not found in scripture but born from a deeply human gesture.
Contrary to what many may assume, the rose has not always been part of this powerful scene. The story behind it dates back to the early 1970s and involves a well-known figure in Spanish media: journalist Iñaki Gabilondo.
At that time, Gabilondo was the director of Radio Sevilla. One Holy Week, his station sent a single red rose to every brotherhood as a token of appreciation. When the members of Santa Marta were preparing the paso for its procession, the then brotherhood leader, Manuel Otero Luna, reflected on the rose and the fact that his wife was gravely ill. Moved by emotion, he decided that this small, unexpected gift should be placed as close as possible to the Lord.
It was Paco Cabello, the second prioste (a brother in charge of organizing the float), who had the idea of tucking the rose beneath Christ’s right hand. The gesture was quiet, intimate, and powerful—so much so that it became a tradition. Every Holy Monday since, that same red rose has been placed in the exact spot, a subtle tribute that now carries decades of silent devotion and memory.
What began as a simple gesture of kindness turned into a lasting bond between a journalist and a brotherhood, and gave rise to one of Seville’s lesser-known but most touching Holy Week traditions.
A single red rose: a sign of love, memory, and presence, nestled beneath the hand of Christ, carried through the streets of Seville under the watchful eyes of a city in mourning—and in faith.
