Triduum, Day 1

As today is Good Friday, yesterday was (of course) Holy Thursday. I attended the service at Pius V, as usual. I knew two things coming in. 1) Pius knows how to do liturgy. Their Masses are reverent without sliding into the inaccessible. 2) This Triduum would be different from the four(ish) years of CCM Triduum. And Holy Thursday, with its Eucharistic procession, would be the most different of all.

Both true. Pius was no CCM, but it was far enough from it that it could be a beautiful expression of the same liturgy. We started with a presentation of the Holy Oils, by a Sister who ministers to the ill, a woman who helps with RCIA, and a boy who's about to be confirmed. The Gloria burst forth with much joy, and the congregation had been invited to bring bells. (Em, Triss, and I had forgotten them.) So the burst of joy not only came from the choir and the voices of the people, but all the noise they could make.

The liturgy continued as per normal Mass until after the homily. Rather than inviting 12 people forward as representative of the congregation and symbolic of the Apostles, Father invited anyone who wished to come forward and have their feet washed, or wash a loved one's feet. To my surprise, only a small portion of the congregation came forward. While I like the idea that anyone can have his or her feet washed, the symbol of unity fell short, because so few people came forward. I felt a little awkward going back to my pew when I realized that I was one of only a handful who had left.

After the footwashing and subsequent petitions, the congregation brought forward Rice Bowls, offerings for Haiti, and offerings for the St. Vincent de Paul food pantry. Instead of baskets passed around, people approached the altar, making an act of offering that trumps any offertory procession. These gifts remained in front of the altar for the rest of the liturgy.

The Liturgy of the Eucharist stood as it usually does in the Church -- not much can change there, but Father did chant parts, giving it the feeling of high offering. When I came up for communion, the presence of the offering and the footwashing basins, pitchers, and towels struck me. The fact that nothing had been removed emphasized the connectedness of it all -- our services of love, our servanthood, our physical offerings, our spiritual offerings, and our unity in the Body of Christ -- and how it all centers on and springs from this Sacrifice that is the Eucharist and is the Cross.

After communion, Father incensed the Host (there was incense through the whole service -- one of the best parts of the Triduum!) and processed it to the altar of repose at the rear of the church. Immediately afterwards, a host of ministers came forward to strip the altar, so that the church darkened and emptied itself with the congregation still present. I've never seen the stripping of the altar performed like that, but since I could not participate in the stripping this year, it made me feel more complete, like I had a greater share in the liturgy.

We left a silent empty church. I hate the bareness of it -- there is nothing lonelier than a stripped altar, standing silent vigil over an empty, open tabernacle, its candle extinguished and taken away.