I just returned from an Easter cantata at my sister-in-law's church. The choral numbers were breathtaking, soaring at times. Sitting next to my wife, I could feel her body shaking because she was crying so hard. I love listening to music that has that kind of emotional power.
The Good Friday mass this afternoon was quite moving, as well. I love the solemnity of the service. The unveiling of the crucifix. The chanting. The reading of the passion narrative. The moment near the end, when Christ utters His last breath and dies. At that moment, everyone kneels and almost a minute of silence follows. Those sixty seconds. All of Good Friday is in those sixty seconds.
And Saint Marty is grateful for it.
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| On a hill far away... |
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