Emmanuel
FROM THE EDITOR
The church where I served for ten years as pastor in New York City regularly included Tenebrae in its Good Friday schedule . Early in the evening , as darkness fell , the pews filled with people who came to participate in this reflective service from the Church ’ s monastic tradition .
Tenebrae , Latin for “ shadows ” or “ darkness ,” consists of chanted psalms , prayers , readings , and lamentations accompanied by sacred music . After each selection , a candle is extinguished on the candelabrum in the sanctuary until only one remains lit . And for a period of time , this candle , too , is removed and hidden , and the church is plunged into total darkness . Finally , the candle is returned in silence to its place , to burn as a herald of the resurrection .
The experience is meant to recreate the emotional and spiritual impact of the passion and death of Christ on those who witnessed his arrest , trial , execution , and entombment . And it does .
One song that has in recent years become a standard part of the Tenebrae service is “ Pietà / The Silence and the Sorrow ,” written by the Irish priest and composer Liam Lawton to memorialize the victims of a particularly horrific bombing during Ireland ’ s “ troubles .” The melody and the words pierce the soul .
The refrain reads :
Who will come and share my sorrow , Hold my heart ‘ til wake tomorrow ? Is there time that I could borrow ? Oh , oh , the silence and the sorrow .
Hearing these words , I would close my eyes and picture Michelangelo ’ s
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