[random] in which the clueless chemist remembers the Easter Triduum of years past
Tomorrow marks the beginning of the holiest of seasons, the Easter Triduum, where Christians everywhere commemorate the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ--the core of Christian belief. So, right now, the clueless chemist takes a break from brown-nosing her labwork and reminisce (and reflect) on Easter Triduum past, back in Manila.
I have fond memories of the Triduum. Well, for most part, these are really old memories--as a kid, I just remember celebrating Palm Sunday and Easter Sunday with my family (which can be described as "go to Mass, wave palms OR sing the Gloria after a long time, then go home"), but not the rest of the services. Good Friday, for some reason, impressed me as a day when everybody should walk and work silently (going tippy-toe and speaking in hush-hush tones, more scared of getting scolded by the elders than by "the God who died that day"), suffering in the summer heat.
But this all changed around 10 or so years ago, when my brother (who had volunteered to serve Mass in UA&P) dragged me off with him to attend the Triduum activities. As the younger sib, I was supposed to watch him during Mass...and being the younger one, he was supposed to mind me. So, he packed me off to the choir loft, with his Roman Missal and an admonition to stay out of people's hair, including his.
And so I learned...and appreciated this sacred triad of days: the significance of Holy Thursday (institution of the Eucharist via the Last Supper), the needed pain and sorrow (and the sense of emptiness) of Good Friday, the hope and joy brought by Black Saturday (Easter Vigil). And staying in the choir loft taught me my first Gregorian chants as well--my brother's former high-school teacher was part of that choir, and she took me under her wings, if only to get me out of my sib's hair. :P
After that experience, we went to Triduum activities every year. Sometimes, my mom would come along. At times, he would simply be an ordinary mass-goer instead of an altar server. At times, I would be found not in the choir loft, but counted among the congregation, who could sing a decent "Pange lingua" and "Ubi caritas". Attending those became a family affair.
Now, listening (and singing) "Pange lingua" in a foreign land in this season gives me a queer heartache. For starters, I have no brother to watch for during Mass, no mother to be with. I'll be celebrating the Triduum on my own, singing in a choir not because I was simply dropped off there. I barely remember the Latin lyrics, but I can hum the melody.
I guess I'm a bit homesick now.
Have a meaningful Lenten/Easter to you!
I have fond memories of the Triduum. Well, for most part, these are really old memories--as a kid, I just remember celebrating Palm Sunday and Easter Sunday with my family (which can be described as "go to Mass, wave palms OR sing the Gloria after a long time, then go home"), but not the rest of the services. Good Friday, for some reason, impressed me as a day when everybody should walk and work silently (going tippy-toe and speaking in hush-hush tones, more scared of getting scolded by the elders than by "the God who died that day"), suffering in the summer heat.
But this all changed around 10 or so years ago, when my brother (who had volunteered to serve Mass in UA&P) dragged me off with him to attend the Triduum activities. As the younger sib, I was supposed to watch him during Mass...and being the younger one, he was supposed to mind me. So, he packed me off to the choir loft, with his Roman Missal and an admonition to stay out of people's hair, including his.
And so I learned...and appreciated this sacred triad of days: the significance of Holy Thursday (institution of the Eucharist via the Last Supper), the needed pain and sorrow (and the sense of emptiness) of Good Friday, the hope and joy brought by Black Saturday (Easter Vigil). And staying in the choir loft taught me my first Gregorian chants as well--my brother's former high-school teacher was part of that choir, and she took me under her wings, if only to get me out of my sib's hair. :P
After that experience, we went to Triduum activities every year. Sometimes, my mom would come along. At times, he would simply be an ordinary mass-goer instead of an altar server. At times, I would be found not in the choir loft, but counted among the congregation, who could sing a decent "Pange lingua" and "Ubi caritas". Attending those became a family affair.
Now, listening (and singing) "Pange lingua" in a foreign land in this season gives me a queer heartache. For starters, I have no brother to watch for during Mass, no mother to be with. I'll be celebrating the Triduum on my own, singing in a choir not because I was simply dropped off there. I barely remember the Latin lyrics, but I can hum the melody.
I guess I'm a bit homesick now.
Have a meaningful Lenten/Easter to you!