Preparing for the Light: Tenebrae

Throughout the 40 days of Lent, the Church has repeatedly echoed the invitation of Jesus: “Repent!  The kingdom of God is at hand…”  We have fasted and prayed, done acts of penance and works of mercy, and perhaps have stumbled and failed in some way.  But even these failures are gifts of God grace, when we offer them to Him, He uses them to draw us more deeply into Himself and our knowledge of Him and His mercy. 

Now, we enter Holy Week and the Triduum.  The Triduum is a liturgical season in and of itself, the three days of the year marked profoundly by the passion and death of our Lord and Savior Jesus.  The days are marked with special liturgies, full of silence, lamentation and sorrow.  Through these liturgies the Church looks on the face of Jesus and sees the reality of sin, and also sees her hope and deliverance through His offering of love.

In the monastery, the last days before Easter, the Holy Triduum, are spent as days of retreat as much as possible – all but the most essential work stops as the sisters are given more time to complete their tasks for the Triduum and Easter preparation, such as reviewing and practicing the liturgies, cleaning, decorating and cooking for Easter, but most importantly, spending extra time in prayer and meditation.  You are invited to join us in prayer and reflection, in the celebration of the liturgies and in time of silent prayer in our chapel.

Most people are familiar with the afternoon and evening liturgies of the Triduum: Mass of the Lord’s Supper on Holy Thursday, the Liturgy of the Lord’s Passion on Good Friday, and, of course, the Easter Vigil Mass the night before Easter Sunday.  But there is also another powerful time of liturgical prayer during the early morning of these three days: Tenebrae.

Tenebrae is traditionally prayed in complete darkness, with the only light coming from a hearse holding burning candles.  As the hour of prayer proceeds, at various times, the candles are extinguished, representing the disciples abandoning our Lord.  Chantresses intone passages from the Lamentations of Jeremiah, which describe the sins of Jerusalem (representative of the Jewish people, and also of the Church) and entreat her to return to the Lord, her God.

Eventually only the center, or Christ candle, remains burning, until near the end of Tenebrae when its flame is also removed after the chanting of the Benedictus.  Then, in Dominican tradition, two chantresses stand at the front of the choir, two more chantresses stand in the middle of the choir and all face the altar as the chantresses and choir pray for Christ’s mercy.

May God’s grace pour out on us all during these holy days of Triduum as we prepare for His Resurrection and the triumph we share with Him over the captivity and death of sin.

Love Stands By

What was that Saturday morning like for Mary?  Just yesterday, she stood by at the foot of His cross, unable to take Him in her arms as she did when he was a small boy.  To brush his locks of hair from his sweaty brow and offer him a drink like she did when he was a young man, working as a carpenter in Joseph’s shop.  He looked at her, she looked at him.  It reminded her of their first look so long ago in that stable in Bethlehem when He was born and she wrapped Him in swaddling cloths and laid Him in a rough-hewn manger.  Now they looked at each other as he was stretched out on a rough-hewn cross, soon to be wrapped in burial cloths and laid in a cold, dark tomb.  But these two looks held eternity… and then he gave her the next phase of her mission, her motherhood: “Behold your son.”  And with that, she went to live with John in his house. 

And that is where she starts her day.  In John’s house, her heart throbbing from the sword which pierced it, yet she still stands.  Not by her own strength, no that would not be possible.  But by the strength she was given in knowing God, knowing herself.  “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord.  Be it done unto me…” 

The day is quiet.  It is the Sabbath and no work is to be done.  No activities to distract from the pain and grief, no noise to drown out the sorrowing heart.  Perhaps the disciples began to wander in throughout the day, one by one, in shock, grief, guilt.  Their friend, their Lord was arrested, tortured and killed.  And they fled.  They abandoned Him.  The one who had taught them, treated them with compassion, loved them.  They come to Mary and fall into her arms.  No words can be spoken.  They aren’t needed.  In moments such as this, heart speaks to heart in silence.  Nothing to do but simply rest and be.  “…By waiting and by calm you shall be saved, in quiet and in trust your strength lies” (Isaiah 30:15).

We have a hard time with that.  We crave work, busyness, activity.  We are surrounded by visual and aural noise: radios, televisions, internet…and when we do have rare moments of quiet, all this noise rises up in our hearts and heads.  When we face pain, whether in ourselves or with someone we care about, we seek distractions and we want to have just the right words to take away the pain.  When we feel inadequate or powerless to the task, we seek escape.  But compassion does not first consist in taking away the pain with the right activity or the right words.  It first consists in simply being with someone in the midst of their pain – to hold them, cry with them, open our hearts to them.  We can only do that if we are honest and grounded in the truth of ourselves, as Mary was.  Only then can we remain standing by.

As Jesus sleeps in His tomb, we gather with Mary in dark faith and wait for what God shall do.  “Why so downcast, O my soul?  Why groan within me?  Hope in God, I shall praise Him still, my Savior and my God.”  For God is always at work.  Jesus Himself said a seed must be buried in the soil in order to grow into a plant and bear abundant fruit.  And on this day, while His body appears to be sleeping and the world waits in silent grief, He has continued His descent to the underworld, to proclaim the Good News to those who had died before His time and had remained shut out from Paradise.  Adam and Eve, Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Jacob, Job, David, the prophets and all the just.  They too have been waiting, hoping, crying out to God for a Savior to open up the gates of heaven.  And so in death, He descends and breaks the bars of the prison to sets the captives of death free.  “O gates, lift high your heads, grow higher ancient doors, let Him enter, the King of Glory!”  And though His presence was only in the place of the just, the power of His presence is felt throughout the darkest reaches of hell and it trembles.

Something to ponder…

As the disciples of Jesus gathered together, we too will gather together tonight to wait in vigil.  The disciples had gathered in fear of the Jews to await their fate.  We gather in hope and joy to await the resurrection of Jesus.  Yet too often, we get caught up in the activity of the liturgy and we miss the opportunity to really go deeper into it and the mysteries it contains and expresses.  It is also this night when we receive new brothers and sisters in Christ through their baptism, we are united with separated Christian brothers and sisters as they enter into full communion with the Church, and we renew our baptismal promises.  These are the most important promises we make in our life. 

To prepare for this night, spend some time today slowly reading and meditating on the liturgy text - you can find it in a missal, missallette (such as Magnificat or Living with Christ), or through an app or online.  It is so long and rich, pick one part to really focus on, perhaps the Lucernarium, the Exultet, one of the readings and/or a responsorial psalm, or the Renewal of Baptismal Promises.

Abiding in Love

On Holy Thursday, our community gathers before the altar of repose in our Chapter Hall and we listen meditatively to Jesus’ farewell discourses to His disciples (John 14-16) and his high-priestly prayer (John 17).  One theme is particularly prominent throughout these discourses – to remain in Jesus is to remain in love, to know the Father, to receive the fullness of God in the Holy Spirit, to have eternal life.  Before facing His own agony, Jesus comforts and consoles His disciples - His sons, His brothers - for He is compassionate for what they will undergo when He is struck down – they will scatter in fear.

Of all the fears and pain we face, there is one we find most terrible; yet no matter how hard we try, we cannot escape it: the pain of loneliness, isolation, abandonment.  To feel unwanted and unloved.  As He was fully human, this was part of the pain Jesus underwent throughout His passion, beginning in the garden of Gethsemane.  His pain of loneliness and abandonment reaches to the depths of human suffering when He cries out from the cross, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?”

We have many ways to try and numb this pain.  We seek pleasures, riches, honors and power; we search for the next high, work night and day to climb the ladder of success.  We compete with each other to see who will make it to the top, who will have the most toys, the greatest number of conquests.  Yet this only brings about more chaos in our hearts and lives, a greater feeling of loneliness and isolation, and so we seek even more pleasures, riches, honors and power.  And, with God’s grace, we come to realize it is all an illusion – it’s not real.

As we progress in the spiritual life, we still face these temptations, but they may take on different guises.  As Henri Nouwen writes in his book, “The Selfless Way of Christ: Downward Mobility and the Spiritual Life”, the Christian faithful in our culture face temptations to be relevant, spectacular and influential. 

We try to be relevant by having purpose: we define ourselves by what we do instead of who we really are.  It is the illusion that “unless I contribute something tangible (i.e., some bread for the world), I am worthless.”  Perhaps this is in having a successful career or perhaps this is having a successful ministry.  But our core identity is not to be found in what we do or produce.  To try and find it there is an illusion.  On the cross, Jesus could not have appeared less relevant - what could he do in those moments nailed to a tree?  What had happened to his ministry with his disciples and followers? 

We are tempted to be spectacular, to draw attention to our message and ourselves.  We organize and plan events, programs, write articles, produce multimedia, send letters, throw parties, or even post just a quick status update on social media, and there’s a temptation to use the results of those things to judge our worth.  “No one attended the event?  No one came to my party?  No one viewed my last YouTube video?  No one liked my status update?  I must not matter.”  Illusion – the truth of our existence is not what others say about us or how popular we are (or aren’t).  On the cross, Jesus could not have been less popular - he suffered insults and mockery from all who passed by.

Finally, we still face a temptation to fill the loneliness with power.  In the Lord of the Rings, in panic and fear, Frodo offers the ring of power to Gandalf, the one person who is so good and already so powerful that it seems reasonable to think he should be able to handle the ring.  There is a moment and then Gandalf cries out, “Don’t tempt me!  I would desire to use this for good, but through me it would wield something far more terrible.”  Power in and of itself is not bad – but when we seek it for ourselves, even under the pretense that we would use it for good, it corrupts us.  Our security, our identity is not in the power we may wield over others.  And the temptation to power is not just for those in business or politics.  How many of us try to control other people, to direct the lives of spouses, sisters, brothers, friends, or children because we think we “know what is best” for them?  Yes, we have a responsibility to help each other walk in virtue and holiness - parents and superiors in promoting and upholding discipline, brothers and sisters in Christ to encourage and challenge one another on the road to holiness - but that does not mean we may try to manipulate or control one another.  If we stop and are honest with ourselves, too often we must admit we are often powerless in managing our own lives – why do we think we could manage someone else?  We must accept our powerlessness, let go and let God correct what seems hopeless from our point of view, both in ourselves and in others.  On the cross, Jesus could not have seemed more vulnerable and powerless, yet He revealed true strength comes not from a show of power, but from love. 

So how can we respond to fear and loneliness?  Jesus shows us the way.  We stop running.  We admit that our attempts at filling the loneliness in our hearts with pleasures and distractions, toys and possessions, honor and power are futile - they don't satisfy our deepest longings.  We stop defining ourselves by whether we meet the world’s standards of being relevant, popular or powerful and accept God’s view of us in Jesus – we are His beloved.  God doesn’t need us…He WANTS us.  Abide in that knowledge, offer your past sins and present flaws, your loneliness, your heartache, your sufferings to Him and remain in His love on the cross.  Yet keep in mind, the work of the cross is God’s work, God’s way, not ours.  It is His grace that will heal us, transform us and empower us to be all He created us in love to be.  The way of the cross can and will bring us to rest, freedom, peace and order.  When we accept what He wants to give us, when we shoulder the yoke He has fashioned for us, which is truly light, then we will begin to see with His eyes and know with His mind and love with His heart - in essence, we will truly begin to live.  So today, let us accompany His mother Mary and the other women and John to the foot of the cross and abide there in faith, hope, and love, realizing that after the darkest of days and nights, He has promised the day of resurrection.

Something to ponder…

Jesus’ word on the cross “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” is the first line of Psalm 22.  Spend some time today with Jesus and His word: imagine yourself at the foot of the cross and slowly pray and ponder the words of Psalm 22 with Jesus.

Loving to the End

What would you do if you knew today would be your last?  That during the night, one of your closest friends would betray you to others who would see that you suffered a cruel and painful death?  Would you gather with your friends for one final farewell?  Would you have one more adventure, one more thrill?  Would you throw up your hands, cry out to God?  Would you try to seek out your betrayer before you were betrayed?  What would you do? 

“When Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart out of this world to the Father, having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end” (John 13:1).  Stop and ponder those words: Jesus knew His time had come and so with His last moments, “He loved [his own] to the end”.  We are included in this as we too are Jesus' own.  He loved us to the end.  

In this last night on earth, Jesus gathered his closest friends and they didn’t look at photos or talk about “the good old days…”  Jesus loved to the end, to the totality of self-giving.  On this night, Jesus poured water into a basin and washed His disciples’ feet; on the cross He will finish pouring out His life, emptying Himself completely in love.  As Pope Benedict XVI writes in “Jesus of Nazareth: Holy Week”:

Unlike Adam, who had tried to grasp divinity for himself, Christ moves in the opposite direction, coming down from His divinity into humanity, taking the form of a servant and becoming obedient even to death on a cross – all this is rendered visible in a single gesture.  Jesus represents the whole of His saving ministry in one symbolic act.  He divests Himself of his divine splendor; He, as it were, kneels down before us; he washes and dries our soiled feet, in order to make us fit to sit at the table for God’s wedding feast.

When we read in the Book of Revelation the paradoxical statement that the redeemed have “washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb” (Rev. 7:14), the meaning is that Jesus’ love “to the end” is what cleanses us, washes us.  The gesture of washing feet expresses precisely this: it is the servant-love of Jesus that draws us out of our pride and makes us fit for God, makes us “clean.”

And we are all represented among the disciples: Thomas, the doubter and a bit of a cynic…John, ever devoted and the one who reclined closest to Jesus heart…impetuous Peter, who always seems to mean well, but who would also betray Jesus with his denials later that night…Philip who voiced the desire of them all to see the Father, yet also reveals they still didn’t quite “get it”…and Judas, a close friend, yet one who was planning to betray Jesus for a bit of extra cash.  We are all there in the Upper Room, gathered with Jesus that night.  And He washes our feet.

Not only that, He also leaves a legacy, one beyond price and description.  He tells them, how much he has longed to share this meal with them.  Not wanting to leave us alone, sheep among wolves, He institutes the Eucharist and gives to mere humans the Real Presence of His body, blood, soul and divinity.  Real food, real drink to strengthen us on our spiritual journey to our heavenly home with Him.  Tonight, we remember in a special and particular way this gift of His Real Presence.  And after, as the disciples left the Upper Room and went with Jesus to the Garden of Gethsemane to be present with Him during His night of agony, He offers us the opportunity to travel with Him to the altars of repose, to sit with Him and “keep watch for one hour.”

Let us not miss this opportunity, this special invitation from Jesus, our Beloved Lord.  As He washes our feet, the affections of our soul, with His grace and love, let us comfort and console Him by accepting the gift of His Presence and the abundance he greatly desires to give us.  Let us offer ourselves to Him by just being with Him this night and allowing Him to transform our hearts and minds.  No matter our past, no matter our present circumstances, no matter what we think might come in the future, let us look to Him right now in this moment of grace with the real hope that we might be drawn ever more closely to Him as He is raised up on the cross of Good Friday.

Something to ponder...

"When they had sung a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives."
- Matthew 26:30; Mark 14:26

What did Jesus and His disciples sing?  Most likely, in keeping with Jewish tradition, it would have been at least part of the Hallel Psalms (Psalms 113-18 and 136).  These are hymns and prayers sang by the Jewish people at Passover giving thanks to God for liberating them from slavery in the land of Egypt; but they also speak of the "stone rejected by builders" and pray for God's deliverance in the present.  Past and present come together in these psalms and they are given a new fullness and universal meaning in Jesus.  Spend some time today reading and praying with at least part of these Psalms: imagine Jesus singing them with His disciples, that you are there with them, or imagine that they are present with you where you are now; ask Jesus for the grace to hear Him speak to you through the words of these Psalms in a new way.

2018 Holy Week and Easter Sunday at the Monastery

You're invited to join us for the celebration!