MADRID – Every year in late July, my grandfather would tell me about the people who lay in coffins, not for burial but for blessing. He described how, in parts of Galicia, survivors of major health crises and other near-death experiences would ride inside open caskets carried by friends and family through the streets. The ritual was a sacred and public act of gratitude for life spared and death deferred. I never quite knew what to make of it, though I learned it really does happen in a small village in Galicia.
Now, decades later, the same ritual—known as the Romería de los ataúdes—has drawn national attention, not for its significance, but because a local priest wants it banned as witchcraft.
Panorámica do val de San Xosé de Ribarteme, concello das Neves | Panoramic view of the San Xosé de Ribarteme valley, municipality of As Neves [Photo Credit: Paradanta CCA-SA 3.0]
Though now framed as Christian devotion, the ritual’s roots may lie deeper. Galicia’s landscape is steeped in death symbolism and ancestral reverence, and many scholars believe the festival reflects pre-Christian, even Pagan, origins. Articles in Panibericana and Perfil refer to it as “mezcla lo religioso con lo pagano,” that is a a blend of sacred layers stretching back to the ancient Gallaeci, a Celtic tribe who once inhabited the region.
These ancestors worshipped nature deities like Lugus and Bandua, raised stone hillforts (castros), and built burial mounds (mámoas) to honor their dead. In this rugged and mist-veiled corner of Spain, where the Christianization of local traditions was gradual and incomplete, the spiritual landscape remains porous. Folk rites like the ghostly Santa Compaña, the reverence for meigas (witches), and death processions like Santa Marta’s all suggest a worldview where death, spirit, and land remain intimately connected.
But this sacred continuity now faces resistance.
In 2023, Father Francisco Javier de Ramiro Crespo, newly assigned to Ribarteme, declared that for as long as he was a priest, “there will be no more coffin processions.” Taking advantage of pandemic restrictions, he stopped the centuries-old practice. “I am dedicated to evangelizing,” he said, “not to promoting superstitions, folklore, or witchcraft.” Outraged villagers fought back. One, Jorge Rodríguez, had been denied his promise to participate in the previous year’s festival. He organized a petition and collected 500 signatures, eventually brokering a compromise with the diocese: the coffins could appear outside the church, but not during the Mass itself. The town’s mayor, José Manuel Alfonso, did not mince words: “He [the priest] is not in the habit of attending to anyone. I’m not going to convince him or get involved. What concerns me is that there is normality.”
Despite the concession, the tension only grew. Last week, in 2025, the friction reached a new high. After Mass on Santa Marta’s feast day, a middle-aged man, having survived a life-threatening incident, kept his promise. Though denied permission to ride inside a coffin, he crawled the route on bloody knees while his family carried the coffin above him.
The priest, unmoved, claimed ignorance of the event and refused to comment. “It’s a joke and a lack of respect toward a centuries-old tradition,” said one woman who was quoted in La Voz de Galicia newspaper, watching with tears in her eyes as the man limped onward, candle in hand. “Seeing one of our own keep his promise to the saint is deeply moving.”
The Diocese of Tui-Vigo later issued a circular stating that parish priests may release individuals from vows made to saints, basically only deepening the rift. While once a dozen coffins might have been seen in the procession, recent years have seen only one or two. Participation is dwindling. “Not bringing out the coffins drives people away,” said one local. Another added, “The tradition may soon slip into memory.”
Nevertheless, the ritual endures, though growing smaller. Like the survivors it honors, the procession now moves into the future, defiant in the face of ecclesiastical censure. For many in Galicia, this is more than folklore. It is a tradition that echoes an older truth: that death is not an end, but a threshold. Moreover, gratitude must be manifested when a life has been spared, whether the Church approves or not. Hopefully, the coffins will continue their procession.
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