Friday, Week Before:
At a practice for First Reconciliation with the 2nd graders, a student is asked to make up an example of a sin to confess. He says “I broke a neighbor’s window playing ball.”
“Did you do this on purpose?” the teacher asks.
“No.”
She turns to the whole class and says, “Remember, class, sins are not accidents. Sins are bad choices we make.”
That will be running through my head throughout Holy Week. I toy with the idea of composing a litany of my bad choices, but quickly dismiss the idea.
Palm Sunday:
Weather has always been connected to Palm Sunday for me. (Any “Palm Sunday Tornados” or “Palm Sunday Hurricanes” in your lifetime?) Palm Sunday morning was chilly but sunny, until just before our outdoor procession, when the Chicago winds really did kick in. Everything, including the outdoor sound system, had to be secured. During the passion reading you could hear the wind roaring.
Then for the next mass and the rest of the day, it was cold, windy and rainy. That evening, after vespers, the full moon kept coming out from behind the rapidly moving clouds. From sunny “Hosannas” to the bitter, cold “Crucify Him” to the eerie “It is finished”, in one day.
Holy Thursday:
9:30 in the morning: The Pastor, reenacting the Last Supper with the school children, washes the feet of a tiny preschooler who is “Peter”(shaking off Jesus: ”You will never wash my feet!”)He is so small the shortest server robe drags on the floor. The teachers had to convince him only a special person like Peter gets to wear a rope around his waist.
7:30 in the evening: The Pastor, at evening mass, escorts Mrs.Metz (the oldest active patrishoner--- still walks to church every Sat. afternoon) from the first pew to one of the chairs set up in front. He helps take off her shoes and stockings, and washes her feet. The 90-some year old holds her head high and beams with a quiet dignity.
Good Friday:
I have noticed ever since Mel Gibson’s “Passion”, the “Via Cruces” and other Passion Plays down public streets seem to be escalating and emphasizing the violent side of the story. The bloodiest drama seems to be the goal.
I know all about the importance of catharsis in cultures, but I’m just not that into enactments of Christ’s suffering. For one thing, you’ll never be able to show His inner anguish no matter how much fake blood you buy. How about reenacting the “No Greater Love” part? I guess I could get into a reenactment of “Jesus forgives the Woman Accused of Adultery”(all the accusers drop their stones and go home when reminded of their sins.) Or every family reenacting “The Prodigal Son” and welcoming back the wayward family member they have ostracized. If I want blood-and-gore, I put on my copy of “Bride of Chuckie.”
Easter Vigil
Our Easter Vigil takes a long time ----an eternity, some would say ---
no shortcuts or edits, we use all seven readings and psalms in the vigil, and this year some 30 confirmations.
The first thing I tell my choirs before we start the vigil is to take off their watches. For this rite, it’s like time is suspended.[Juan, the director of our Coro, reminds us to turn off the cellphones,too: "If God is going to call us here, he's not going to use the phone."] We move from ancient ritual to ancient ritual, using fire and water, light and darkness, and sit around the Easter fire and tell the same stories and sing the same songs our ancestors did thousands of years ago.
And like fireworks going off around the world on New Year’s Eve, “Alleluia” is sung and shouted from one time zone to another, encircling the globe with the message that good is stronger than evil, and love does not fail.
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