Consolation of Tradition

The elder walked up to the altar and blew out the last candle.

He sat down.

Ubi caritas et amor
Deus ibi est.

The choir sang through the hymn, hidden upstairs, their voices pierced the great silence with sharp shards of glory.

Saecula per infinita saeculorum. Amen.

Everyone walked out of the sanctuary. Silent. I held my little brother's hand, he smiled at me, and we maintained the silence until we reached the cars.

The Maundy Thursday service has been our family's tradition for years now. Every year we take the half-hour drive down to Pasadena, to Lake Avenue Church. Every year, we leave the service in silence, participating with hundreds of other people.

I love our family traditions. In a world where we are on the everlasting search for something new (and consequently "better"), it is always so comforting to fall back on tradition. Not just my family's tradition, the tradition of the Christian Church for hundreds of years past. The solemnity of the service, the taking of the bread and wine, walking out in complete silence at the end. We don't do this in everyday life. It is a beautiful, powerful reminder of the holiness of these few days.