The Triduum is the holiest of celebrations in the Roman Catholic Church; a three-day liturgy consisting of Holy Thursday, Good Friday and the Easter Vigil on Holy Saturday. Observances are lengthy, solemn and packed full of traditional and spiritual meaning as the passion of Christ is remembered and celebrated.
For many years, as a part of our parish RCIA team (Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults) at St. Mark’s, the Triduum marked the completion of the journey of our Candidates and catechumens into full initiation and reception into the Catholic Church. The connection I had with these folks as they made their journey was one full of love and grace and even though they usually thanked me for my help and support, it was I who owed them more for sharing their stories with me and patiently listening to my story as well.
At our group meeting following the Easter Vigil, usually sometime the next week, we would “unpack” the Triduum, mentally taking slow steps through the three evenings of prayer, sharing impressions and thoughts that struck a chord in each of us. These meetings were full of tears, cheers and laughs, as memories of moments of awe, grace and even comedy (after all, we are human attempting to enter the divine) were recalled.
For the past two years my experience has been very different. Shepherd of the Hills is a tiny parish in comparison to St. Mark’s. Tasks that are handled by committees or deacons in a larger parish, are usually handled by one or two women here. Consequently, our liturgies are simpler and more relaxed than in a larger place.
I don’t remember too many details about last year, maybe because of the newness, or perhaps I was making comparisons in my head between what I had and what I thought I’d lost. Whatever the reason, it wasn’t until this year that I was able to begin to unpack what I experienced during the Triduum. I’d like to share two of with you.
The one thing most people will remember about Holy Thursday is the washing of the feet. In remembrance of Christ’s washing the Apostles’ feet at the Last Supper, Catholic communities offer a variety of ways to celebrate this rite ranging from the pastor washing the feet of parish leaders to the entire congregation coming forward to either have their feet washed or wash someone else’s feet. So, when I received an email looking for helpers at the Holy Thursday service, I assumed they were looking for water carriers, etc. When I arrived, I realized I’d volunteered to represent the parish by having my feet washed. So, when the time came, I was called forward with a handful of others. We sat in chairs facing the parish and Father Dan asked us to remove one shoe. Okay, so the ceremony had been reduced to five feet and my liturgical training bristled at the diminishing of the sign value. Then I glanced down at the bare feet on the floor in front of me and realized that of the women there, I was the only one with a painted toe nails. Instead of feeling like a paragon of good grooming, I was humbled. Next, I saw Fr. Dan bend slowly to his knees and begin to walk on them down the line, washing feet. He is not a young man and his joints pain him. As he gently washed my foot and then moved on, I noticed that the hems on his trousers were frayed. Remembering how I fussed about chosing the right outfit to wear, I was humbled again.
My second memorable experience happened at the vigil Mass on Holy Saturday. The Easter Vigil is one of the Church’s oldest celebrations were traditionally adults are fully initiated into the community. During the many Old Testament readings, the history of God’s covenant with his people is traced from the creation story forward. I was chosen to do one of the readings, a favorite of mine; Isaiah 55: 1-11 – “All you who are thirsty,come to the water!” I truly cherish God’s open invitation to come and drink of the water of new life and wanted to proclaim it in a way that would allow others to feel it as well. I practiced reading the passage several times, sat with it, and prayed about it until I was as ready as I could be.
My time came. I rose and slowly approached the ambo. Adjusting the microphone just so, I began by saying, ” A reading from the prophet Isaiah.” and then took a pause and deep breath. Then, just as I began to proclaim the passage, I heard what I was certain was someone breaking wind in a pew to my left. A few seconds later, snickering confirmed my suspicions.
I was struck by the fantastic whimsy of the moment. For a few moments, I struggled to maintain my composure. I have a mean funny bone and when it is tickled, I find it hard to ignore and let’s face it, farts are funny. More importantly, they are basely human. From all reports, my dilemma was not reflected in my reading. For that I am thankful. I’m sure my preparation aided in my carrying on.
I am also thankful for that moment that God “broke into” my reading, reminding me that Easter is all about Jesus entering a very human world, where I’d bet even in his time, a fart would warrant a chuckle.
So this year, I gathered two important lessons about humility to unpack. Both of these moments, different, but very human, have led me to a better understanding of Christ’s passion and Resurrection.
Alleluia! Alleluia!