Divine Silence

Jews celebrate Passover. Christians celebrate Easter. The two faiths and traditions recite ancient texts -- or modern texts from ancient roots. They are reminded of the events and beliefs that have made them what they are and of the ideals that define what they want to be. By re-enacting ceremonies, families reform.

A seder is a wonderful meal, made nourishing by the loving-kindness it expresses. A non-Jew attending a Passover feast feels at home, most likely because the table embraces him as one. Affection enfolds. Next year in Jerusalem is today.

For Christians, Holy Week includes services mournful and services filled with joy. This year the Gospel lesson for Morning Prayer on Good Friday read: "Peter said unto him, Lord, why cannot I follow thee now? I will lay down my life for thy sake. Jesus answered him, Wilt thou lay down thy life for my sake? Verily, verily, I say unto thee, the cock shall not crow, till thou hast denied me thrice." The word of the Lord. On Easter Sunday, congregations sing, "Christ the Lord is risen today, Alleluia!" Once a symbol of death, the cross symbolizes triumph.

In certain churches an all-night vigil follows services for Maundy Thursday. Parishioners gather in side chapels, lush with flowers amid candle glow, to stand watch, as though a neighborhood in Richmond were Gethsemane, which to believers it was, and is, and ever will be. In pairs, small groups, or communities of individuals, they sit and kneel in sessions lasting one hour. Silence is maintained. And that silence transforms. "Elected silence, sing to me," wrote Gerard Manley Hopkins in "The Habit of Perfection." There is no noise. The heart and the mind are neither bored nor distracted but concentrated and liberated -- and enriched by absolute love. Silence is golden, and divine.