There is a great deal of resonance in silence. Not just any silence, but silence in the midst of sound. A pause.

Michael has described to me before the chanting of the Agnus Dei at St. Meinrad, in which the 3 tropes are chanted slowly, with a significant pause in between each one. It is just one more expressionof monastic time, which is something different than anything else.

When I spoke in Richmond, IN, a few weeks ago, the subject of my talk was The Words We Pray. After I finished, the pastor closed with a few words and then the invitation for the group to pray the Lord’s Prayer – slowly.  This was a struggle for all of us, the force of habit and the lure of the next line in the prayer almost yanking us forward. 

On Holy Thursday, the Mass we attended was over in less than an hour (yes), but it was not rushed in the least, and the most striking aspect was the procession to the Altar of Repose afterwards. It was not a long procession in terms of distance – from the sanctuary, down the center aisle, then up a side aisle to the Mary altar. But the priest and servers proceeded very slowly, as they should, and as we sang Tantum Ergo, we paused, for probably ten seconds or more between each verse.

It was quite powerful, and shows how little is really necessary to do this "work" of liturgical prayer in a resonant way: a priest, three servers, one cantor, a congregation, and an ancient hymn. Underlying it all, a commitment to step aside and simply let God Be.

Other notes about this liturgy:

As was the tradition (although I don’t know if it’s still liturgical law), after the Gloria and the bells, no musical instruments. It struck me very forcefully what a good thing this is, not just at Holy Thursday but at all times, with all due respect to all instrumentalists out there.

This church is a traditional Gothic structure and the organist is superb. So props to him. But the thing about an organ is that it is, more often than not, overwhelming. What I realized as we sang a cappella through the rest of the liturgy was that for the first time in that church, I could actually hear the congregation sing – we could hear ourselves and hear each other – which, in the end, is very conducive to singing.

I don’t remember much about what the music was, exactly – the Psalm was a good setting, the Agnus Dei and Sanctus were in Latin…some Taste and See kind of Communion hymn, but that is typical, in my experience. As much as we can get everything else on track, the Communion hymn sort of sticks in 1992. But that’s all right.

Oh, and you’re wondering how the Mass could be under an hour – no footwashing. It’s an optional rite.