The Virgin dresses as a hebrew in Hispanidad

El artículo original en español puede leerse aquí:

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We have now entered Septuagesima, the time when the Church begins to prepare us for Lent, already introducing purple into the liturgy and penance into our lives.

As an echo of a popular sentiment infused with genuine religiosity, a distinctly Andalusian custom has endured since the early 20th century. It has spread—and continues to spread—in the way we dress our Mother: as a hebrea (Hebrew).

Many believe that the intent behind this tradition was to symbolize the humility of the Blessed Virgin. They assume it was simply a matter of simpler embroidery and adornments, failing to understand the pure and sincere love of our elders, who sought to beautify her while still following the recommendations of the Council of Trent:

«Moreover, it declares that images of Christ, the Virgin Mother of God, and other saints should be kept and venerated, especially in churches, and that they should receive due honor and reverence…»

However, the origin of this tradition was far more mundane, though not without affection and imagination. It arose in the same way that one finds beauty even in poor but honorable homes: due to the limited wardrobe available for the Virgin.

On that first occasion, the scarcity was so great that even the rostrillo was made of tissue paper.

Let us journey through the lands of southern Spain to early 20th-century Seville. There we find the Sevillian embroiderer and designer Rodríguez Ojeda, who in 1925 created the attire that would later be known as the hebrea style.

He first dressed the Dolorosa of the Hermandad de la Hiniesta in this manner. In 1905, he had been appointed teniente de Hermano Mayor of the brotherhood. As a young man, he trained in sacred iconography while working as an embroiderer in the workshop of the Antúnez sisters. He was also responsible for crafting the mantle and the palio, as well as arranging the vestments of the brotherhood’s sacred images.

Our Mother appeared without jewels or embroidery, just as one might imagine her walking through the Holy Land, as she is contemplated in the second joyful mystery of the Holy Rosary on Mondays and Thursdays—when she sets out to visit her cousin, Saint Elizabeth.

In that first presentation before her devoted people, she was clothed in sheets of paper, wearing a simple satin mantle and a plain gown, cinched at the waist with a sash. Her face was framed by a pleated veil, and she was adorned with a circlet of stars.

While there were a few isolated precedents of this attire in the 18th and 19th centuries, they did not establish a lasting or widespread tradition. It was Ojeda’s design that rapidly took hold, especially from the 1950s onward, spreading across various regions and confraternities. The attire evolved over time, often featuring a plain burgundy gown—usually made of velvet—secured with a striped sash, a blue mantle lined with white (typically made of satin), and a simple tulle veil.

Some brotherhoods adorn her divine head with potencias or even ráfagas. However, one element has remained unchanged: the belt or sash at the waist, made from a striking, striped fabric that harmonizes perfectly with the blue mantle and red gown.

As a curious note, several brotherhoods—such as Estrella de Triana, a confraternity founded in 1560 in Seville—dress their Dolorosas in the hebrea style during the Christmas season.

Dear readers, we cannot overlook the richness of Hispanic popular religiosity. With your permission, we will continue to explore these traditions in the coming days.

María Dolores Rodríguez Godino, Margaritas Hispánicas