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The Great Vigil

Dear friends in Christ,

on this most holy night,

when our Lord Jesus Christ passed from death to life,

the Church invites her children throughout the world

to come together in vigil and prayer.

This is the Passover of the Lord:

if we honor the memory of his death and resurrection

by hearing his word and celebrating his mysteries,

then we may be confident

that we shall share his victory over death

and live with him forever in God.

—Solemn beginning of the Vigil

The Vigil is celebrated “during the night, held in anticipation of the resurrection,” and “only after the solemn vigil … does the Easter celebration begin, with a spirit of joy that overflows into the following period of fifty days.” This Vigil is not the usual Mass of anticipation. It is inconvenient, as is much of religious life, and may well not be suited to the elderly or infirm for whom nocturnal activities are difficult or even impossible. It is the conclusion of the liturgy begun on Thursday evening (though the Triduum itself ends after evening prayer on Sunday), and an extraordinary time to invite Catholics into fuller, deeper participation in the life of the Church.

The fire which is blessed at the Vigil begins recalls Luke’s gospel story (12:35ff) which reminds to have our lamps burning ready as we await the bridegroom. The rubric advises that this “large fire” burn “in a suitable place outside the church.”

And perhaps the custom of Easter bonnets should be reinstated. The faithful women who did not desert on Calvary were rewarded on Easter morning by first experiencing the joy and promise of the resurrection. In our current Church, we do well to remember that moment. Back in the day here at St. Michael’s, we ritualized that memory of the myrrh-bearing women in the garden as our own women gave first expression to our Easter joy by filling the fonts, lighting the candles, and bringing out the Easter flowers as the Gloria and Alleluia were sung. “That seems sexist,” someone once commented. “Exactly,” was the response. Easter invites us to consider and reconsider the role of women in the earliest and current Church.

As the baptismal water is blessed, there is an electrifying moment when the priest or deacon “may lower the Easter candle into the water either once or three times” as the priest prays, “We ask you, Father with your Son / to send the Holy Spirit upon the waters of this font.” This is clearly sexual imagery. The baptismal font, the womb of the Church, receives her Christ, and we emerge from the water as the first fruits of their union. This fecundity is remembered in the special form of the first eucharistic prayer’s hancigitur for the Easter Octave, reminding us that those born of this union of Christ and the Church rise from the baptismal water “born into the new life of water and the Holy Spirit with all their sins forgiven.” In this context, the enthusiasm in 1 Peter seems acutely understated: “There is cause for rejoicing here” (1:6)

And in conclusion:

Life that shall never again see darkness (because you are what you eat)

I have risen: I am with you once more;

you placed your hand on me to keep me safe.

How great is the depth of your wisdom, alleluia!

—Easter Sunday Introductory Rites

(Ps 138:18, 5-6)

When I was teaching at Lewis University in suburban Chicago, an insightful theology major, reflecting in class and later in an e-mail exchange on the relationship of Passover to Eucharist, wisely observed, “Grace is everywhere.” “We, too,” wrote young Nick, “inall of these celebrations, interact with the grace of God present all around us.” Receptivity to and interaction with grace are concepts and opportunities that ought to give us pause, or Sabbath rest. Nick’s realization prompts the opening prayer on Easter Sunday morning: “Let our celebration today / raise us up and renew our lives / by the Spirit that is within us.”

What does this renewed life look like? The Spanish prayer after communion for the 27th Sunday in Ordinal Time puts it succinctly in a way that quickens our hope. The original prayer in Latin is: Concede nobis, omnipotens Deus, / ut de perceptissacramentisinebriemuratquepascamur, / quaetenus in id quod sumimustranseamus. We should note thatinebriare is the root of our word inebriate–it can meanto make drunk, butcan also meanto water, or to saturate or drench with any liquid.Here is a literal transation of the prayer:“Grant us, almighty God, / that wemay be saturatedand nourished by thesacramentswe have received, / so thatwe may be transformed into that which we haveconsumed.”

So, our mothers were correct: We are what we eat. So let the Church, radiant, risen from the water, say, “Amen!”

  • From: “Death, Delight and the Paschal Mystery: Another Look at the Triduum,” by William C. Graham, in Ministry and Liturgy, February 2006.