Friday, March 30, 2018

I was there

It's that Friday Christians call Good. I went to the Church of the Holy Apostles for the suitably spare service, which was good for all sorts of reasons.

It's my home church, but since I celebrate the Easter Vigil there I tend to take in the other parts of the Triduum elsewhere. (True to form, last night we were at our neighborhood Catholic Co-Cathedral of St. Joseph.) But if there's something right in welcoming the Easter light with your regular people, in your regular place, it's no less appropriate to commemorate the Passion here, to face the Reproaches exquisitely sung by a choir of familiar faces, to adore the bare wooden cross leaning on the altar you face at a distance all year, to sing "Were you there...," your voice breaking in the final hush-voiced verse, to hear the bell that calls you to worship all year peal those thirty-three times.

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