Although Felicity’s focus on the worship is distracted her confused feelings for Father Antony and the mysterious behavior of their Russian Orthodox visitors she strives to keep the holiness of the day. After all, this was the beginning of the Triduum— the Great Three Days of Holy Week— the high point of the Christian year where the liturgy would reenact as closely as possible the way Christians had been celebrating Easter since the first century.
Felicity entered the silent, yet expectantly vibrating, church a few hours later determined to put behind her the tangled affairs of her mundane life. And when the Mass of the Lord’s Supper began with the Cantors in the organ loft singing Durufle’s Messe cum Jubilo and the Kyrie washed over her she felt so lifted out of herself she believed her own determination.
Then Father Anselm, an apron tied around his rotund form, knelt on the stone floor before her. She extended her leg and the Father Superior meticulously washed, wiped, and then kissed each offered bare foot. She had no idea it would be such a powerful experience. As chills shook her and she fought back tears she wanted to cry out, No, I’m not worthy.
Father Anselm, though quietly picked up his basin and towel an departed. As the cantors sang the final, echoing strains of "Ubi Caritas" — Where true charity and love are, there is God— she made her barefoot way back toward her seat over the cold stones of the side aisle.
Back in her seat she looked around for Antony. She knew he would be participating in the service, but she hadn’t spotted him yet. The hymn "O Thou Who at Thy Eucharist Didst Pray" had begun when she caught his eye as he stood with the other gold and white vested priests who would pray together for the Holy Spirit to descend upon their offering. "On the night he was betrayed— which is tonight. . ." the Eucharistic Prayer commenced.
Of the glorious body telling, O my tongue, its mysteries sing,
And the blood, all price excelling, which the world’s eternal King,
In a spotless womb once dwelling, shed for this world’s ransoming. . . .
In increasing darkness, Felicity followed with the others, down the curving stairs at the back of the nave to the crypt below where they knelt before the altar of repose, especially prepared for this moment. It was ablaze with candles and banked with white and gold flowers. Felicity knelt and attempted to pray, but like the disciples who followed Christ to Gethsemane, she found it hard to concentrate.
The lights were extinguished one by one and all departed in darkness and silence. The tomb was prepared.
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