Triduum/Easter 2026 - Fr. Paul

My Dear Friends,

I had no idea what weather to expect as we began our pilgrimage south toward Assumption Abbey. This week already we had summer temperatures in the 80’s and winter plunges into freezing, accompanied by weeks of draught followed by two days of rain. But, to my delight, everything was adorned with shades of green. The pastures, especially, were vivid. Leaving Ava, as we began climbing into the Ozarks, a feast awaited. While an occasional Red Bud dotted the landscape, Dog Wood was marvelously blossoming in every valley and crevice. “All praise to you Lord Jesus.”

The entrance into the monastery was a bit disappointing as Fr. Donald’s daffodil festival was over for the year. Exteriorly the largest change was a new Chicken House, complete with a flock of chickens free by day to roam the grounds; and in returned their reward has been to overflow our refrigerator with eggs. Surprising too was a fenced in pen right outside the rear kitchen door, equipped with two vigorous brown dogs of unknown origin. In the basement two interesting large birds shared a crate. Apparently there has been change in mammal tastes as the fish pond in the center of the Garth is bone dry. Strange too is a large plastic garbage can filled with concrete and mounted on a concrete slab. Doubly strange, because there is not only one in the Garth and one also in the rear of the monastery. Surely they must be the beginning of something. Stay tuned. Again strange, the clock in the hallway and the one in the kitchen are gone.

The monastery as a whole looked freshly painted and shiny, especially the kitchen that sports new cupboards and even the addition of fancy plates. There were chairs in the hallway, apparently as a courtesy for guests during the disposition at the “Altar of Repose.” Fr. Lawrence slipped me a rosary, as the monks do the rosary after Vigils. There was choir practice after Lauds each day, as Fr. Lawrence did a fine job of guidance in the absence of Alberic II who is now in Vietnam. The daily liturgy has only a few minor changes, such as a daily Prayer for the Dead. But a “painful” incident happened when I rose at the traditional 3:15 A.M. time, only to find monks not trickling into the Church until closer to 3:45 A.M. The time of rising had changed.

The Triduum began at 4:00 P.M. on Thursday. With the Tabernacle standing wide open, and the large central crucifix covered with a plain purple cloth, what was to happen was a reenactment of the first Mass, the Last Super -- with sufficient hosts consecrated for the next two days. The event ended with a procession of monks and guests slowly moving out the back door into the private portion of the monastery -- to the Altar of Repose. This small room, while formerly dressed all in white, now had a background drapery of blood red. Standing in adoration outside that room became an ordeal in duration, saved only when Fr. Cyprian thoughtfully uttered, “Let us go in peace.” Gladly we did, but there was a sign-up sheet for those willing to stay vigil in half-hour intervals throughout the night. There was no work that afternoon, and a simple Compline ended the day.

Good Friday “liturgy” began at 8:30 A.M. with a short Service of the Psalms in which nine separate psalms were read by nine different monks. My psalm was #24. The Celebration of the Lord’s Passion began at 3 P.M. I regard “humility” as one of Jesus’ prime attributes. It is what I feel when my feet are gently washed and dried by the Abbot.    There would be no Mass this day, for our Savior was to die. It seemed that perhaps this liturgy was designed for the young. Everyone stood while the whole crucifixion scripture was read, by three monks no longer standing together at the altar but in three different locations. Finally the words were read: “It is finished.” My old aching legs concurred. But there was still more. We would soon stand for nine long antiphonal intercessions between Deacon and Priest, praying for almost everyone, even politicians. The color for the observance was brilliant red, and stoles were worn by the monks only during the final communion part of the Celebration.

And yet in this liturgy there was a painful omission in the part called the Veneration of the Cross. The Deacon processed from the rear door of the church with the rugged cross, an acolyte on either side. Still vivid in our minds are those final words by the human Jesus for us, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” And now the portrait is to become totally reversed. In the Reproaches it is now the divine Jesus who utters God’s tragic cry: “My People, my People, what have I done to you.” God will not stop in sharing his pain, crying out a host of things that he has done for us through the ages for which our response has been one of continual betrayal. Then, we who feel betrayed by God dare to kiss the cross of the God who feels betrayed by us. In this cosmic drama, with co-mingling tears of mutual hurt, we have the cosmic drama of God and humanity holding each other as we await the Resurrection. . . But the Deacon omitted the Reproaches.

This day was the anniversary of the relinquishing of my United Methodist ordination. And so the day ended with Compline, followed appropriately with thunder and lightning.

On Holy Saturday, at rehearsal after Lauds, the monks have interwoven into the Easter Vigil and Easter Day Mass some of their Vietnamese hymnology. The monks were patiently concerned that I understood what was to go on. Unfortunately, however, their English has not improved much. There are now two Vietnamese hymn books at each stall, entitled “Laudatio Si.” Several years ago Br. Boniface and I took some oak trunks and made crosses, mounting them as 14 stations along the path to the river, each bearing an appropriate word or two. They have since rotted and been replaced, but Fr. Alberic found (and revised?) a beautiful Stations of the Cross Liturgy. Consequently it has become a tradition every Holy Saturday to walk these Stations in conjunction with the Office of Terce. But that morning, for the first time ever, the weather intervened, and like a good baseball umpire, the Abbot called off the game. That was good, as I believe I would have been halted by Station Seven. Yet, after all, Jesus fell -- thrice. So the event was moved into the church, carrying the venerated cross from Station to Station that are engraved on the walls. A sample of the liturgy might be Station Two entitled “Jesus Accepts His Cross.” This is the passage that is read. “My Jesus, I take my daily cross. I try to welcome the monotony that often marks my day; discomforts of all kinds, the summer heat, the winters cold, my disappointments, tensions, setbacks, and cares. Remind me often that in carrying my cross, I am carrying Yours with You. I bear only a sliver of your cross, but in return You carry all of mine, except that sliver.” And so we processed, between Stations singing a verse of “Behold the Royal Cross.”

Then, just as on Holy Saturday the original Disciples gave up and “went fishing,” so the monks returned to a day of ordinary work. But I immersed myself in the day’s Breviary readings. Impressive is what they claim Jesus did on this day. He descended into Hell -- in search of Adam and Eve and all those in history who followed -- treating them like Lost Sheep, holding them gently in his arms “Arise, let us leave this place, for you are in me and I in you.” Vespers was at 6:00 P.M., ending with the question of whether the Easter Vigils fire would be in the traditionally open area by the monastic gate, or would rain drive it onto the monastic porch. How often, ironically, it seems that Good Friday is warmly sunlit, while Easter is damply grey. But whatever, the Great Silence descended.

Our frigid Easter Vigil began at 3:30 A.M. beside a warm fire, by the gate. With Lauds immediately following the Vigil, we were involved for next two and three-quarter hours in worship. I think that my favorite parts are these: 1. The huge Easter Candle which leads the candled procession from the lonely fire of abandonment into the lilied sanctuary of Resurrection;   2. The nine readings that narrate the Biblical history of our sanctification, from Adam to Christ. 3. The singing of Alleluia as the resurrection bell persistently rings of the Risen Christ -- an Alleluia prohibited throughout Lent, a bell silent throughout Holy Week. Only the two traditional Easter banners were missing.

The office of Terce was in the small infirmary chapel. Easter Mass (at 9 A.M.) was celebrated as a full sun was bathing the earth. Fr. Alberic presided, with various monks assuming parts of the liturgy. It was classic, complete with candles and incense, cosmopolitan with English, Vietnamese, and Latin.

After lunch we began or our pilgrimage north back to the Hermitage Spiritual Retreat Center, sufficiently blessed to live out the fullness of Eastertide.

May it be with you also.

Fr. Paul