You’ve probably seen one. Maybe you were stuck in traffic, drumming your fingers on the steering wheel while a long line of cars with "Funeral" flags crept past. Or perhaps you were in New Orleans, swept up in the brassy, chaotic joy of a Second Line. At its core, a procession is just people moving from point A to point B. But it’s never actually that simple.
It’s about visibility. It’s a literal, physical manifestation of a community’s values, grief, or triumph. We don't just "go" to the cemetery or the church; we process there.
What a Procession Actually Is (And Isn't)
Dictionaries will tell you it's a number of people or vehicles moving forward in an orderly fashion, especially as part of a ceremony. That’s the dry version. In reality, a procession is a boundary-crosser. It takes private feelings—like the heartbreak of losing a loved one or the fervor of a religious belief—and forces them into the public square.
Usually, these events are organized around a focal point. It might be a casket, a holy relic, a political leader, or even a giant balloon of a cartoon character. But the movement is the message. Unlike a parade, which is largely about performing for an audience, a procession is often more about the participants themselves. The act of walking is the ritual. It’s rhythmic. It’s intentional.
The Weird History of Moving Together
Ancient Egypt had the Beautiful Feast of the Valley. They would carry the statues of gods across the Nile. It wasn't just a show; they believed the movement maintained the cosmic order. Honestly, it’s not that different from a modern-day protest march. Both are about occupying space to prove that something—a god, a right, a person—matters.
In the Middle Ages, processions were the primary way people experienced their city. They would walk the boundaries of the parish, a practice called "beating the bounds." They’d literally strike boundary stones with willow branches. It was a physical map-making exercise. Without GPS, the procession was how you knew where your home ended and the next world began.
The Liturgical vs. The Secular
In the Catholic and Orthodox traditions, the procession is a high art form. Think of Holy Week in Seville, Spain. The pasos (floats) are incredibly heavy, carried by costaleros who move in a slow, swaying gait. It looks agonizing. That’s because it is. The physical struggle of the movement is part of the prayer.
Then you have the secular side.
- Military reviews where the power of the state is displayed through synchronized marching.
- Academic processions at graduations, where the "rank" is shown by the color of a velvet hood.
- The Olympic Opening Ceremony, which is basically a global-scale flex of national identity.
Why We Can't Stop Doing It
Why do we still do this? We have Zoom. We have live streams. We could just "be" at the destination. But there is something deep in the human lizard brain that needs to see a physical line of people.
Psychologically, moving in synchrony creates what sociologists call "collective effervescence." It’s a term coined by Émile Durkheim. It describes that feeling of being part of something larger than yourself. When you walk at the same pace as a thousand other people, your heart rate actually starts to sync up with theirs. You’ve probably felt it at a protest or a stadium. It’s a high that you can’t get sitting in a chair.
The Funeral Procession: A Dying Art?
In many Western cities, the traditional funeral procession is fading. High-speed traffic and urban sprawl make it dangerous or just plain annoying for other drivers. But when we lose the procession, we lose the "buffer" time.
Historically, the walk from the house of worship to the grave gave mourners time to process (literally) the transition of the deceased from the world of the living to the world of the ancestors. When you just hop in a car and GPS your way to a plot of grass, you miss that communal deceleration. Some funeral directors, like those interviewed in Thomas Lynch’s essays, argue that this "slowed-down time" is the most therapeutic part of a funeral.
The Logistics of the Line
If you’re ever tasked with organizing a procession, you’ll realize it’s a nightmare of logistics. You have to deal with:
- Permits (The "Right to Assembly" isn't always free).
- Traffic control (Rolling closures vs. fixed blocks).
- Pacing (The "accordion effect" where the back of the line has to run to catch up).
- Marshals (The unsung heroes in high-vis vests).
In New York City, for instance, getting a parade permit involves the NYPD’s Office of Citywide Event Coordination and Management. It’s a bureaucratic maze. But it’s necessary because a procession is, by definition, a disruption of the "normal" flow of the city.
Surprising Processions You Didn't Know Existed
Most people think of funerals or the Macy's Day Parade. But the world is full of stranger versions.
🔗 Read more: Chhal Kapat: Why This Ancient Concept of Deception Still Rules Our Modern Psychology
Take the "procession" of the Juggernaut in Puri, India (Ratha Yatra). Massive wooden chariots are pulled by thousands of devotees. The word "juggernaut" literally comes from Jagannath, the deity on the chariot. It was a force so massive and unstoppable that British observers were terrified by it.
Or look at the "March of the Living." It’s a silent procession of thousands of people from Auschwitz to Birkenau. There is no music. No cheering. The silence is the movement. It’s a way of reclaiming a space where millions were forced to march to their deaths. By walking it voluntarily, the participants change the meaning of the ground itself.
The Digital Procession: A New Frontier?
We’re starting to see "digital processions" in gaming and social media. When a beloved gamer passes away, players often hold in-game marches. In World of Warcraft, there have been massive processions where hundreds of avatars walk across a continent to honor a fallen friend.
Is it the same? Kinda. It lacks the physical heart-rate syncing, but it keeps the core element: a group of people moving together toward a shared destination to signify value.
💡 You might also like: Finding Naruto Images to Draw Without Losing Your Mind
How to Respect a Procession
If you encounter one, especially a funeral, the rules have changed over the years. It used to be that every car pulled over. Today, that can cause accidents on 65-mph highways.
- Don't cut in. It’s the biggest "don't." In many states, like Florida or Nevada, the lead car in a funeral procession can legally go through a red light if the escort allows it, and the rest of the line follows.
- Lights on. If you’re in the line, keep your high beams or hazard lights on so others know you’re part of the group.
- Be patient. It’s five minutes of your life. It’s a lifetime of grief or a once-in-a-century celebration for them.
Actionable Insights for the Modern Participant
If you find yourself needing to organize a communal walk or participate in a significant one, keep these points in mind:
- Identify the "Pivot": Every great procession has a focal point. If it’s a wedding, it’s the couple. If it’s a protest, it’s the lead banner. Ensure that point is clearly visible and well-paced.
- Plan for the "Accordion": If your group is larger than 50 people, the back will always move slower than the front. Appoint "pace setters" in the middle of the pack to keep the gap from getting too wide.
- Check Local Ordinances: Don't assume you can just walk down the street. Many cities require "Special Event" permits even for sidewalk-based marches if they exceed a certain number of people.
- Consider the "Destination Ritual": A procession without a meaningful ending feels like a walk to nowhere. Ensure there is a specific action—a speech, a prayer, a song—that signals the transition from "moving" to "arriving."
The next time you see a long line of people moving with purpose, don't just see a traffic jam. Look for what they are carrying. Look at how they are walking. They are participating in one of the oldest human technologies for creating meaning out of thin air. Whether it's a protest, a pilgrimage, or a simple walk to a final resting place, the procession remains our most powerful way of saying, "We are here, and this matters."