Triduum
weekend retreat a transforming experience
By
Jacklynne Guimond
The story is told of a little
girl who, born with a physical impediment, was not able to use her legs
but adapted readily to walking on her hands. Some years later with advanced
medical technology her legs became strong enough for her to actually
walk upright like everyone else. How strange was this new world to her
when all that she had perceived to be normal was suddenly turned upside
down.
This story came to mind on
Easter weekend when my husband and I participated in a Triduum retreat/celebration
at St. Benedict’s Monastery north of Winnipeg, which was facilitated
by Rev. Diarmuid O’Murchu, a priest and social psychologist living
in London, England. We experienced a new way of looking at the three
great days of Easter.
O’Murchu prefaced each
of the Triduum services with explanations of what we would be doing,
and why. I was surprised when one of the first things I heard was: “We
won’t be washing feet tonight!”
He explained how the washing
of feet was relevant in Jesus’ time. People walked everywhere
and washing feet was a sign of welcome, hospitality and refreshment.
To “wash feet” in our present time would be to go out to
the parks and streets and bring the homeless and hungry home. “Are
we ready for that?” he asked, and added: “If the parish
community does not have an open table practice, the washing of feet
dishonours Scripture . . . .”
Contrary to what most of
us thought, the eucharistic meal was moulded around the Shabbat meal,
not the Last Supper or Seder meal, he said. The Shabbat meal was the
family meal celebrated every Friday night in the Jewish family, and
the presider at the meal was the mother of the household — a woman!
We learned that every eucharistic prayer has not one, but two epiclesis
(invocation of the Holy Spirit).
In the first the Spirit is
invoked to change the elements of bread and wine into the body and blood
of Christ; in the second the Spirit is invoked to change us into the
living Body of Christ. What many of us have been led to believe is that
the words of institution, or the “memory words,” as O’Murchu
referred to them (at the elevation of the bread and wine), constitute
some magical moment.
He invited us to take our
part in both epiclesis at the liturgy in word and gesture, claiming
our baptismal right. To illustrate his point he humbly removed his stole
and placed in on the table (altar) before we continued the prayer together.
He told us to always remember: “The eucharist was not created
to serve the priesthood; the priesthood was created to serve the eucharist.”
Our Good Friday took on a
somewhat different form from what we have been accustomed to. O’Murchu
pointed out that to venerate the cross of 2,000 years ago without making
it relevant today is of little value. Sentimentality with the past if
not connected to alleviating the pain and suffering of the present achieves
nothing.
We were to consider what
we are called to die to — perhaps tidiness, control or rationalism
that can override wisdom and intuition.
As we maintained our spirit
of silence we were invited to choose a small rock from an assortment
provided, and spend the day with it, listening, examining and even painting
it.
At 3:00 p.m. we processed
to the chapel with our colourful rocks and one by one, with a word or
phrase about our rock, placed them on the floor. It was moving to listen
and watch each person bring form to the image of the cross. We spent
some time in silence reflection, and then shared a basket of dry bread
in solidarity with the hungry of our world.
In the evening we returned
to our cross in the chapel where we placed tiny candles amidst our rocks
and prayed in 15-minute increments for personal concerns, the world,
the church and our planet.
Holy Saturday, the in-between
time, provided an opportunity to ask ourselves some questions: What
do I need to be vigilant about? How can I reawaken my consciousness
in the cosmic sphere? Where do I place my energy, intellectually, spiritually,
ecologically? How can I engage more creatively in resurrection? How
can I befriend the darkness of chaos and confusion? How can I prioritize
justice-making in my spiritual life?
Our Easter Vigil was celebrated
around fire, water and planting seeds. We gave thanks for the gifts
of fire (warmth, light, passion) and water (refreshment, cleansing);
we planted seeds as signs of new life. O’Murchu led us in a reflection
on the importance of the women in the Gospel story. We left chapel in
silence, staying with the image of those women until the sunrise eucharist
on Sunday morning when we celebrated resurrection.
As we drove home and reflected upon the weekend, the image of an elaborately decorated Easter egg came to mind. It reminded me of the many hours my husband and I, as music ministers, have spent over the years contributing to beautiful, almost pageant-like Triduum liturgies. And then it struck me: this Easter weekend we had dared to peel off the outside gild of the egg; we had delved inward to the yolk to find where new life begins.
Guimond is a wife, mother and grandmother who lives in Fort Frances,
Ont. She and her husband Gerard are liturgical musicians.
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