I don’t believe in God, but I remain very curious nonetheless. So when I heard about a candlelit procession lost in the Paraguayan countryside, I thought: why not?
But deep down, what really happens in Tanarandy?
Here, nothing is ancestral, at least in appearance. The Good Friday procession was born in 1992, imagined by Paraguayan visual artist Koki Ruiz in his hometown of San Ignacio, just a stone’s throw from Tanarandy. At first, it was a simple family celebration. Then, little by little, the ritual expanded, grew, transformed... until it became this fascinating phenomenon that now attracts thousands of faithful.When I arrive, around 5 p.m., the place seems almost deserted. The rain falls gently. The mosquitoes, however, are already there, countless, hungry as if they were celebrating their own festival, a banquet of which we are the guests... or rather, the dishes.After a good walk, I enter a small grove. A few silhouettes are waiting for me there, motionless, silent. Women dressed in blue tunics, all gathered around a statue of the Virgin of Sorrows (La Dolorosa). Then, without warning, voices rise. These women, called estacioneras, begin to sing traditional prayers a cappella. Deep chants that cut through the humid air. A shiver runs down my spine. Something changes the atmosphere grows heavier, more solemn, charged with an invisible yet palpable force.
Night falls, covering the sky in shades of orange.
And suddenly, the world ignites. Tens of thousands of candles are lit one by one, nestled in orange peels, the apepú. The ground becomes fire. A glowing path appears: the Yvága Rapé, the path to heaven.
Wax melts and flows beneath our feet. The air fills with warm, almost sacred scents.
Thousands of silhouettes, a candle in hand. Murmurs, prayers, songs floating in the night. Everything feels unreal, spectral, suspended as if time itself hesitated to go on.
Then comes the arch. Monumental. At its top, a sculpted sun watches over the faithful who pass beneath it to reach the lake. Around it, the entire crowd has gathered; in their hands, still lanterns form a constellation.
On one side, men in brown robes move slowly into the water. With each step, the light trembles. A gong resounds deep, vibrating. It tears through the silence and seems to freeze the world.
On the other side of the lake, a large theatrical stage depicts the Passion, death, and resurrection of Christ in a Gothic style. This fusion of religion and artistic creation left me speechless an atmosphere unique, almost bordering on a sect-like ritual, leaving me with a feeling both of discomfort and awe.
Over the years, this religious celebration has become one of the most impressive religious and cultural events in South America.
I still don’t believe in God, but I recommend the experience.