Here is a photo from our Holy Thursday Seder.
It shows 4-year-old Angela and her father, who is helping her ask “The Four Questions.” It is also the only photo that I took, (not unlike my friend Nutmeg’s single shot of their post-Seder china in the dishwasher), because I was tired, darn it, and did not feel like taking photos.
Bad blogger.
It was not a “perfect” Seder by any stretch. “Um, isn’t the matzo supposed to be wrapped in a towel?” my husband wondered. “The crackling of the cellophane sort of dampens the effect.” I shrugged and smiled sheepishly. It was not a perfect Seder, no, but it was a happy family meal and a happy family memory.
Note to self: Next year, unpackage the matzo.
The Good Friday liturgy moved me to tears, as always. The three priests from our parish bore the heavy cross up to the altar while the organ built to a crescendo. Slowly the cross was raised before us…and slowly it was put into place, a hope-filled sign of contradiction and the blood-stained mark of our salvation.
On our way up to venerate the cross, I leaned forward to whisper into Cate’s ear. “You know what to do, right?”
She nodded.
When she got to the front of the line, however, she paused and stared up at the server. He brought the cross down even lower and held it forward; Cate placed a shy kiss on the feet of Our Lord.
Once we’d returned to our pew she poked me. “I thought we were going up to Communion!” So no, she hadn’t really known what to do…though she passed with flying colors. (Later, on the way up to receive the Eucharist, she turned and murmured, “Now we are going up to Communion, right?”)
Note to self: Don’t assume that the children are listening as you explain the liturgy on the way to church.
And so today is Holy Saturday. I am always, always tempted to feel festive on Holy Saturday—to fudge on my penance, to eat Peeps and drink gourmet coffee. The hard work of Good Friday is over, right? Let’s rush our good God along, then! Let’s shoo Him right out of the tomb.
Not so, impatient lady, not so.
From today’s reading from Magnificat:
On Holy Saturday the Church waits at the Lord’s tomb, meditating on his suffering and death. The altar is left bare, and the sacrifice of the Mass is not celebrated. Only after the solemn vigil during the night, held in anticipation of the resurrection, does the Easter celebration begin, with a spirit of joy that overflows into the following period of fifty days.
Note to self: Stop talking, already! Listen to what the Church is saying, and continue your prayerful vigil.
Together in the Sacred and Immaculate Hearts,
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