Today marks the start of what liturgists are wont to call Holy Hell Week. Lots and lots of celebrations, whole hosts of special ceremonies and traditions to include, and, by the time we get to the Paschal Triduum (Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday), there are three complete "set changes" to do in as many days. The proper color for Lent is purple, but the Mass of the Lord's Supper on Thursday is a Eucharistic feast, so that means white vestments and paraments. That's also the day on which we commemorate the Mandatum, the washing of the disciples' feet--so the liturgist has to round up a dozen or so people willing to have their feet washed, and make preparations for that. After Mass, the Blessed Sacrament is exposed, usually until midnight, but in some cases all night long, for people to pray in commemoration of Jesus' admonition to the disciples in the Garden of Gethsemane ("Could you not remain awake for even an hour?" Mark 14:37).
Good Friday, being a feast of the Passion, means red vestments and paraments. It's also (a) not a Mass, (b) a day when it's traditional to remove or cover all images in the church, and (c) the day on which Catholics venerate the cross in a special way, which of course requires a major rearrangement of the worship space. The Passion narrative is read out again, which almost always means multiple lectors and some crowd participation. After the service is over, it's tradition that the altar is stripped bare and the tabernacle left empty and open (though the Sacrament is reserved in a secure place elsewhere for the sick and for Viaticum).
Then there's Holy Saturday, the "mother of all vigils" in the words of the General Instruction of the Roman Missal, and the single biggest and holiest day in the liturgical calendar. This is the feast for which all the stops are pulled out to the full. We're back to white again, since it's the celebration of the Resurrection and of new life. Masses upon masses of flowers come into the church. A new fire is lit, from which the brand-new Paschal candle is kindled, and all the worshippers present light bougies or small candles, so the church is filled with flickering light as the Exsultet, a chant of praise for Easter, is sung. There are nine readings from Scripture possible (most churches do fewer than that), including the Exodus story--which is the only one of the nine that cannot be cut. The Gloria and the Alleluia re-enter the musical vocabulary after an absence of six weeks. All the candidates and catechumens (people who have been preparing to join the Catholic Church: candidates are those who are already baptized, and catechumens are those who will be baptized at the vigil service) are baptized if need be, confirmed, and receive their first Communion. It's typically a minimum of two full hours to get through the service, and if it's done right, it's liturgy at its very best and you don't want to miss it. I won't be, either: I'll be one of the lectors for the vigil this coming Saturday night, and one of the extraordinary ministers of Communion for Holy Thursday. I'm going to try to squeeze in Good Friday around job responsibilities, but that may not work out.
Anyway, I made a new discovery today: ibuprofen is your friend during Holy Week services. All the standing and kneeling and bowing really gets to you after a certain age.
Nevertheless, after a bit of a visit with mom after Mass this morning, and a bit of lounging about the house this afternoon, I got in a bit more geocaching. Had a much better day today than yesterday: I went 3-for-3, picked up a travel bug that I'll take with me out west later this year and leave in a new location, and found a couple of new parks and forest preserve areas to check out in greater detail when I have the time and the inclination. I took the photo below at the site of my third cache find. I was sitting right next to the cache when I took it, looking south toward Owens Creek (elevation 828 feet). It's only about 8 miles from my house, but it's like another world out there:
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