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I hadn't planned to be in Bruges-Belgium's most picturesque town-on its busiest day of the year, but there I was, traipsing through the narrow spectator flanked streets. Everyone was waiting for the star attraction. It wasn't a celebrity or a politician that would be parading by. It was something much more endearing to the people of this Gothic-clad city: it was the blood of Jesus.

It was May 21, the day of the annual procession of the "Heilig Bloed." Though drops of Jesus' blood were sprinkled around Europe, Bruges was the best-known claimant. The locals began an annual procession with the Holy Blood after the Belgian city was saved from the marauding French, which began in 1203 and has lasted into the twenty-first century. Because the blood would liquefy for the faithful every Friday, Pope Clement V gave his official stamp of approval on the Bruges blood in 1310 with an indulgence-a remission of temporal punishment due for sins that have already been forgiven-to those who came to venerate it (after an unnamed blasphemy occurred later that year the blood became stubborn and refused to perform its weekly trick, only liquefying once more in 1388).

But that doesn't stop the town from marching out the blood every year for up to 100,000 people. The streets were crammed with spectators, many of whom had reserved seats along the procession route. In the main square, 15-row bleachers were set up.  As the procession began, I started to get a sense of what I was in for: a history lesson. The procession, which lasted about two hours, is a Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade of religious teaching, starting with the Old Testament (specifically, Adam and Eve, dressed like cave people) and slowing down a bit to feature various phases of Jesus' life. A float of Mary and Joseph holding the baby Jesus started the new phase of the procession (there was no float showing a mock Holy Circumcision, unfortunately). One of my favorites was the Last Supper (I think because I was hungry), literally a moveable feast on wheels. Actors playing the Redeemer and his apostles slowly went by as they pretended to look serious and to eat and drink as the crowd waved. By the time the float of Jesus being condemned by Pontius Pilate went by, Christ was looking increasingly beleaguered.

A little later, Christ walked by carrying a cross. And you probably know how this story ends. Or at least how this phase of the story ends. Because this wasn't the end of the procession. We moved through history, as floats depicting the spreading of Jesus' message cruised by. A group of robe-wearing, white-bearded men walked by-presumably the apostles-and one of them high-fived a teenager. The end of the Roman empire and the beginning of the medieval period sailed past. Oh, there went Charlemagne. Armies of Crusaders marched past. The sun was beating down on all of us and I was getting tired.

Finally, after a group of bishops, nuns, and clerics strode past, there it was: the reliquary that held the Holy Blood of Bruges. After witnessing depictions of events that took place over thousands of years, it was anticlimactic to finally see the headliner. The reliquary itself dates from 1617 and is bedecked with precious stones, including a black diamond. There was little reverence for the relic itself, perhaps because medieval piety hasn't been resurrected yet. Or because the relic been in the town for eight centuries and is like that grandpa who moves in and, you get the sense, is never going to leave, so you just kind of get used to it sitting there in the armchair watching Matlock reruns. And it seemed the people just turned up for the show that preceded the relic.

On my way back to Brussels later that day, I sat on the train thinking about the procession that used to take place in Calcata every January 1, the erstwhile Day of the Holy Circumcision. Dedicated to the only other primary Christ relic, the Calcata procession was a modest affair compared to what Bruges does for its relic. In fact, because Calcata was so isolated, I imagine there weren't many outsiders who would turn up to witness the procession with the Holy Foreskin. After the 1900 threat of excommunication to anyone who spoke of or wrote about the relic, the foreskin and its elegant reliquary could only be shown during the procession. Perhaps that's why, as the priest Don Dario told me, the locals would practically swoon in front of the relic, some would even kiss the reliquary.

I enjoyed the procession in Bruges, but I'd take real piety over Jesus floats any day.

David Farley, An Irreverent Curiosity, Religion, Italy, foreskin, Penguin Books, Gotham Books