March 30 - The Great Vigil

Saturday night of Holy Week concludes with another service I never knew of until a little over a decade ago, little sweetheart, called The Great Vigil.

After Tenebrae and Good Friday, the sanctuary of the church is left in darkness. On Holy Saturday, sometime between dusk that night and dawn on Easter Sunday, the tradition was to light a bonfire, an Easter Fire, outside the church, from which a single candle, the Pashcal Candle is lit and then brought into the sanctuary to light the rest of the candles in the church.  

It’s observed a bit differently from church to church but both the one I first saw at St Thomas and the subsequent ones at Trinity have been in two parts - starting very solemn still in semi-darkness for the first hour around 11pm and then literally brightening as the Paschal candle is brought in, the lights returned - and at Trinity - everyone ringing bells. It signifies Resurrection and the arrival of Easter (when before sunrise) sometime just after midnight.

Somehow, little sweetheart, going through the darkest parts of Holy Week seem to be the most resonant to me. I think it may be a place for my grief to be grounded, a quietness found and a resolve to keep the faith that you are forever and we will be together again, that you will, as always, find me.

With all my love, your Michael.

Holy Week - Good Friday

Little sweetheart, today is another of the days of Holy week that I always observe - Good Friday - and when I was active in that lovely church I told you about, West Side Collegiate, I was invited three years in a row to prepare remarks, reflections for the Good Friday service. The last year I participated, the service was recorded and later uploaded to YouTube. 

My faith is very grounded in the love we shared and my belief that I will be with you again, soon and forever. So, naturally, I speak of you in this address. I'm posting here below. 

Love you forever.

March 28 - Tenebrae

Another one of the Holy Week services that I find really resonant, little sweetheart, is something called Tenebrae. I’d never attended one or even knew about it until the first one I went to at St. Thomas, in 2012, I think. It’s usually held on either Holy Wednesday or Holy Thursday and is a service of readings and choral pieces.

Not unlike Taize, it’s a candlelight service and as it goes on, one of the candles in the candle stand on the altar is extinguished at the conclusion of each reading until the last, when the church is left in darkness and a very theatrical moment occurs, The Strepitus - which is Latin for “great noise”. The choir bang their hymnals on the railings, the organ plays loud and discordantly, all in a kind of protest at the darkening of the light. Then, one of the ministers or priests comes forward with one last candle, still burning, that had been hidden. And all depart in silence.

West End observed Tenebrae and I went each year. Since the pandemic, like with most of these services now, little sweetheart, I watch the one from Trinity online, as I did tonight. Thinking of you, as always, and saying our prayer.
 

For You, Little Sweetheart, Forever

Words for, of and about you, my little sweetheart. Forever. Love you forever. 

The Choral Text Passage

To The Other Half of The Sky

 

Thirteen

Thirteen years, my little sweetheart. Thinking of you - the other half of my soul - on this day and every day. And knowing in my heart that we will be together again and forever in the blink of an eye. With all my love forever.

 

February 14 - Ash Wednesday

Little sweetheart, even before your tragic passing, I could come to think more deeply about faith. I’m sure I’ve told how moved I was going to the sort of High Episcopal services, especially Evensong, at St Paul’s in London and later at St Thomas here in New York. 

I really began to embrace them ever more in the months and years after. I think it was just what I needed but even so, no one ever approached me there and I felt I was more of a solemn, mournful observer than a participant. 

Eventually I discovered a lovely little church - one of the oldest in the city - about 30 blocks north of here: West End Collegiate. I first began attending their Wednesday night Taize service - an hour-long program of prayer and meditation and almost chant-like hymns held in their sanctuary, lit almost entirely be candlelight. Later, I began to go to some of the other services as well. I found it a good way to quiet my mind and to also to think of and speak quietly to you. 

The pandemic sort of ended the tenure of the clergy and parishioners I had gotten to know in the four or five years I attended West End but it instilled in me some practices and observations that I continue to embrace. Holy Week is one of them. And the period leading up to it - Lent - begins today with Ash Wednesday. 

My thoughts, as ever, of you and my heart longs for you. Any occasion, honestly, little sweetheart, that brings me closer to you and undistracted by the mundane struggles of life is a blessing. I hope to keep near you in these weeks ahead and will write more of them. 

With all my love forever… your Michael