Holy Week, Easter Vigil and Confirmation

Holy Week for Christians and Catholics is the week between Palm Sunday and Easter Sunday. In the stories, Jesus rode into Jerusalem on what we now celebrate as Palm Sunday, riding a donkey. People lined the street, waving palm branches in welcome and celebration. This would have happened just days before the Jewish holiday of Passover, although in modern times the Jewish and Christian calendars are no longer exactly aligned (although they are, somehow, still connected via the moon, and if you want to understand this system go look it up because it hurts my brain).

Over the course of the week many of the famous stories from Jesus’ ministry occurred, including Jesus driving the money-changers from the Temple with a whip. Then of course, there was the Last Supper, the betrayal by Judas, the abandonment by the Apostles, the crown of thorns, the whipping at the pillar, the procession through the streets, and the Crucifixion.

Followed, thank God, by the Resurrection because otherwise how could any of us even begin to stomach this story?

For Catholics, there is a Palm Sunday mass, a Holy Thursday and Good Friday mass, and then the very long Easter vigil, which begins after sunset on the night before Easter Sunday.

Palm Sunday was joyous. We all sat together, knowing this was the home stretch, giddy with God. Makaylaw made us all fancy crosses out of our palm fronds, apparently a tried and true Catholic tradition. Everyone wore red, to stand for the Passion and the blood Jesus shed.

Holy Thursday symbolized the evening of the Last Supper, and Father Tim and Deacon Denny washed the feet of some of the parishioners, as Jesus washed the feet of the disciples. The parishioners chosen were us, those about to enter officially into the church. We were told to wear shoes we could easily remove. We were all goofy and slightly uncomfortable, cracking jokes in the pew about dirty feet as the mass went on. When the time came to actually sit on the steps leading to the altar, we were solemn. Father Tim went first, washing each of our feet in a basin of water. He had a business-like energy, but looked into each of our eyes in recognition. Deacon Denny followed with a towel, drying our feet and smiling the ecstatic, beatific smile he always wears when he is carrying out his deacon duties.

These two men, their love and patience, their honesty and deep commitment to the humilty and generosity at the core of the Gospel, they are so much of why I became a Catholic.

As they washed and dried our feet, Ann Radermacher sang an absolutely beautiful song accompanied by simple guitar. She is a parishioner and an amazing musician and human. (Check out her Soundcloud here).

Good Friday mass was dark, and sad. This is the day that Jesus was crucified. The altar was bare, the tabernacle (the fancy case that holds the consecrated Communion wafers) was open and held only a crown of thorns. The music was somber, the service long. I was in the beginning of what became a longhaul flare, and was dizzy and out of it so I don’t remember much of it clearly, except that it was sad, as it should be.

I can’t remember which day, probably Good Friday, but we sang a Taize song that is one of the most beautiful and moving pieces of music I’ve ever heard. I don’t know if we took communion on Good Friday… reading online it seems that many parishes do, only using bread that was consecrated the previous day. I just remember kneeling at the altar, listening to this amazing song, and feeling such intense love and gratitude and also willingness, to stay there with Him.

Easter Vigil started after sunset, which in early April meant it started at 8pm. I got there early to meet up with everyone who was coming to witness, which included my sponsor, roommate, aunt and uncle, and two friends. There was much hugging and whispered hellos in the dark, quiet church. My RCIA group sat all together, dressed in our best, nervous and happy. Just before 8 pm, everyone went outside to the parking lot where Father Tim opened the vigil with the ‘The Solemn Beginning of the Vigil’ also called the Lucernarium. A bonfire was already burning in a fire pit. We all stood around it in a big circle, shadows dancing on our faces. The Easter candle was lit from this fire, and then each of us lit our small taper candles from each other before processing back into the sanctuary.

During the Lucernarium,

“The celebrant cuts a cross into the candle. Then he makes the Greek letter Alpha above the cross, the letter Omega below it, and the four numerals of the current year between the arms of the cross.  After these rites, the priest lights the Paschal Candle from the new fire and says: May the light of Christ, rising in glory, dispel the darkness of our hearts and minds.” (Link ). I did not see Father Tim do this, but assume he did.

Next Deacon Denny sang the Exsultet, a very long prayer of thanksgiving and celebration for the ending of the darkness of Lent and the Lord’s Passion (Jesus’ torture and murder) and the coming of the Resurrection. From my brief research, the prayer dates back to the 5^th-7^th centuries.

Here are the closing lines:

Therefore, O Lord,
we pray you that this candle,
hallowed to the honour of your name,
may persevere undimmed,
to overcome the darkness of this night.
Receive it as a pleasing fragrance,
and let it mingle with the lights of heaven.
May this flame be found still burning
by the Morning Star:
the one Morning Star who never sets,
Christ your Son,
who, coming back from death's domain,
has shed his peaceful light on humanity,
and lives and reigns for ever and ever.

Amen.

Deacon Denny sang the lines in a wavering voice. He’d mentioned at some point being nervous, as he had experienced lung cancer and didn’t have the breath capacity that he used to have. Knowing this, and seeing him do it anyway, made the experience all the more holy.

Next up came the Liturgy of the Word, seven readings from the Old and New Testament. Just as in every Sunday mass, the Old Testament readings were performed by parishioners. The church was still dark, and very quiet except for the reciting voices. After these four readings, the choir started on the Gloria, one of my absolute favorite parts of mass. As they, and the rest of us, sang the altar servers lit tapers from the Easter candle and went around the sanctuary, lighting all the candles. As they finished, and the music swelled and bells were rung, the lights came on in the whole church. Still singing, everyone looked around, into each other’s freshly illuminated faces, smiling.

(I don’t know why the people in this choir are wearing medieval clothes, but I love it)

The final three parts of the Liturgy of the Word were read, and Father Tim gave his homily. Then it was time for Justin’s baptism. He’s so tall that none of the baptismal robes would fit him, so he wore a white altar server’s robe. Father Tim spoke a bit, and the thing that stands out to me most now is the comment that the word ‘faith’, in Hebrew, is a verb and not a noun. It means ‘to lean’. To lean on something. It’s not a profession of intellectual belief, but an act of trust. “Lean into God, and the community that surrounds you,” he told Justin as he poured water over his head.

Next was a short ceremony ‘recieving’ the three of us who had been baptized in other Christian denominations into the Catholic Church. I did not know this was a part of the ceremony, although in retrospect it makes sense. It’s a ritual to make our baptisms ‘Catholic’.

Here is the transcript of what was said during this part of the ritual:

“Kirsten, Garrett and Josh of your own free will you have asked to be recieved into the full communion of the Catholic Church, and you have made your decision after careful thought under the guidance of the Holy Spirit and by the catechetical process growing deeper in the life of Christ, rooted in this community of faith. I now invite you to stand in this congregation on this Easter night, to profess your faith in Christ as you enter the Catholic Church. In this faith, you will be one with us for the first time at the Eucharistic table of the Lord Jesus, a sign of the church’s ministry and unity. And so I ask (and your response again is very simple, ‘I do’):

Do you believe and profess all that the Catholic Church believes, teaches and proclaims to be revealed by God? And that’s with a Capitol T.

(Very quiet yes)

Let’s say that one more time.

I do!

Kirsten, Garrett and Josh, the Lord receives you into the Catholic Church. His loving kindness has led you here, so that in the unity of the Holy Spirit you may have full communion with us in the faith that you have professed in the presence of this family of faith. “

When I heard “do you believe and profess all that the Catholic Church believes, teaches and proclaims to be revealed by God?” my body went cold. I interpreted this as I believe it is meant to be interpreted: the Roman Catholic Church has the Truth and the only Truth, and do you agree? I emphatically do NOT agree with that, and I went into a panic. I felt like I imagine a woman at the wedding altar might feel, realizing she maybe doesn’t want to marry this person, and weighing the impact of a halfhearted vow against the humiliation of walking away, in front of all those watching eyes. I meekly said, “yes”, as did the other two. Father Tim had us repeat our vow more loudly, and the ceremony moved on.

I’ve spent a lot of time rewatching this portion of the vigil (the video is on our parish’s Youtube channel) and examining the words Father Tim said, what they actually mean, and I feel I can stand by my vow. ‘Catholic Church’ means universal church, not Roman Catholic Church. Was Father Tim supposed to say ‘Roman Catholic Church’ and left a word out? I’ll have to ask him. I do believe that what the church believes, teaches and proclaims to be revealed by God. I don’t believe it is the only Truth. There are as many ways to interpret the catechism, the doctrine and the dogma, as there are Catholics, although the fundamentalists would strongly disagree. And I know that the people midwifing me through this process largely feel the same, or else I wouldn’t have completed it. I might not have made it through RCIA and confirmation at a more fundamentalist parish, but I ended up at OLL, and so I can sleep easy knowing I did not lie to myself, or the Church, or God.*

Finally, we reached the Confirmation portion of the ceremony. The seven of us stood in front, sponsors behind us with their hands on our shoulders. Father Tim stood in front of us each in turn and asked what name we would take as we joined the Church. After we stated our name, he sealed our foreheads with chrism oil that smelled deliciously of balsam wood. For the rest of the night we smelled like a forest.

“God has given you a new birth by water and the Holy Spirit, and forgives all your sins, calling you by name and anointing you, making you his own. May he keep you faithful to the teachings of our Lord Jesus Christ, now and forever, amen.”

I only recently discovered  (throught the St. Anthony’s Tongue podcast) that the practice of taking on the name of a Saint or holy person is not an official practice of the church, but rather what we would call a ‘folk’ practice. It appears from a little research to be done mostly in the UK, US, Germany and Poland.

As he went down the line, Father Tim was presented with Claire (of Assisi, a protege of Saint Francis, founder of the Poor Clares); Mary (Mother of God); Juan Diego (the Indigenous man to whom Our Lady of Guadalupe appeared in 1531); Michael (Archangel); Joseph (foster father of Jesus); Dorothy (Day, a radical Catholic activist) and Bernard (of Clairvaux, an abbot, mystic and co-founder of the Knights Templar).

What a gathering of powerful Saints to watch over us! It brings me joy just to read that list.

We were given baptismal candles, lit from the Easter candle. I don’t think this is a common practice, but I’d said so many times that I wished I could be baptized again that I think they gave us candles just to placate me.

And then we were presented to the Church, as new members of the fold.

There was more to the Vigil, of course. Communion, which was theoretically our First Communion, but I’d been given permission to start participating in the Eucharist when I first started attending OLL. I can remember that first time clearly, on a Wednesday morning with barely anyone else in attendance at Mass, but not the Easter Vigil. We had a small party in the church gathering space afterwards, but it was almost 11 pm at that point so we kept it short. I went home smelling of balsam wood and opened all the gifts people had brought me. Books, an icon, sweet cards, and a handmade scapular.

It was overall a simple, beautiful night. What it means to me, to ‘be’ Catholic, is not so simple. I’ll be sharing some thoughts on where I stand now, 6 months later, very soon.

*Just after Confirmation, I joined a Catholic dating app and matched with a man who turned out to hold strong fundamentalism beliefs. After some discussion of my own personal theology he declared that I lied during this part of the ceremony, that I lied to myself, and God, and the church. It haunted me for awhile, this accusation.

*Photos from the OLL website, Kim Burkhardt, Polly Aird and screenshots from the Youtube recording (https://www.ollparishseattle.org)