Tenebrae

Today is Holy Wednesday, little sweetheart, and the service - Tenebrae - that some observe today and others tomorrow - is one of the most fascinating and moving of them all. 

I’d never attended a Tenebrae service or even known of it until about ten years ago when I went to the one at St Thomas. St Thomas is rather High Episcopal and kind of grand, not in a bad way, but my whole experience there was more observational than participatory. When I discovered West End the following year, it was a good deal more intimate and I felt more engaged than just spectating, if that makes sense. 

In both services, indeed in all Tenebrae services, I think, the sanctuary is almost solely illuminated by candlelight. A big candelabra is usually center and as the service progresses through readings and song, the candles are extinguished one by one. After the very last reading, when the final candle is blown out, a tremendous cry goes up! The organ plays loud and discordantly, the choir bang their hymnals on the railings - until one sole candle returns, usually from on high, where it had been hidden. Then, in silence, all depart. 

Like all the services this week, little sweetheart, and as it’s been since the pandemic began, I’m not able to attend but instead am watching remotely. Grace Church, way downtown near Battery Park, has lovely services and film them so beautifully it’s almost as if one is there. I watched tonight and read along from here at my desk. It was very moving and, as ever, I feel brings me ever closer to you. 

With all my love forever.