Holy Week, Part IV:
The Easter Vigil

We wait on the Lord, who is our light in darkness

    That is the refrain we sing over and over again in the dark Cathedral during the Easter Vigil. On this night of Christ"s rising from the dead, we wait for the Lord and with the Lord. His resurrection took place at a moment in time, but through our prayer we move beyond history: we enter into that moment, and live it again. "The Resurrection of Christ is not merely the memory of a past event. On Easter night, in the sacrament of Baptism, resurrection" is truly achieved" (Pope Benedict XVI). The Elect for whom we have prayed through the long weeks of Lent are baptized, and emerge from the font as "breathing icons of the risen Christ" (Johnson).

    It is hard to write about the Easter Vigil, at least, it is hard to write briefly about the Easter Vigil. In his wonderful essay on Holy Week, Msgr. Robert Hugh Benson stopped his description of the Vigil with the blessing of the font, exclaiming, "I cannot go on. Is it not too good to be true?" This great liturgy--the greatest of the Church's year--is so rich in history and meaning that it would take volumes to do it justice. And even after volumes there would still be more to say. For, as the great Easter Proclamation, the Exsultet, tells us with such exuberance, "this is the night"!

    This is the night when Jesus Christ broke the chains of death and rose triumphant from the grave.
    Most blessed of all nights, chosen by God to see Christ rising from the dead!
Of this night scripture says, "The night will be as clear as day; it will become my light, my joy."
    The power of this holy night dispels all evil, washes guilt away, restores lost innocence, brings mourners joy; it casts out hatred, brings us peace, and humbles earthly pride.

This issue of Liturgy Notes will focus on just the first part of the Vigil, the Service of Light.

Yesterday, today, and forever

    While the Easter Vigil itself is our most ancient Christian celebration, with roots deep in Jewish history, the Service of Light with which it begins is relatively new: the blessing of the new fire and the use of the Paschal candle as a symbol of the risen Christ appeared in Rome only in the twelfth century. Both elements originated in other places. It has been argued that the blessing of the fire came from Ireland: that St. Patrick "baptized" a pagan ritual of spring practiced by the people, and incorporated it into the Easter liturgy! Be that as it may, no less a source than St. Augustine attests to the use of the paschal candle in Africa as early as the fourth century. It was certainly a very important feature of the celebration in England, where, at Salisbury Cathedral, the Paschal candle was no less than thirty-six feet high, and was placed in a stand of proportional magnificence.

    The blessing of the candle is surrounded by special rites. On the candle is carved a cross, and within the arms of the cross the numbers of the current year. During the ritual of blessing, the presider traces these signs with his finger and says, "Christ yesterday and today, the beginning and the end, Alpha and Omega; all time belongs to him, and all the ages. To him be glory and power through every age forever. Amen." (It was in this cosmic prayer, praising Christ as Lord of time itself, that Pope John Paul II found the theme for the Great Jubilee Year 2000.) We are reminded simultaneously that we are living in time (so much so that the date is interwoven with the cross, as it were), but also, in Christ, outside of time. "On this night of Resurrection, everything begins anew; creation regains its authentic meaning in the plan of salvation. It is like a new beginning of history and of the cosmos, because Christ is risen" (Pope John Paul II). In rising from the dead, Christ turned time around and introduced a new order. Now, anything is possible.

    The Paschal candle, lit from the new fire, is carried into the Church. As the Israelites were led from bondage to freedom by the pillar of fire, we are led by the flaming symbol of the risen Christ. We find our way to our places by its light. "The liturgy of the holy night of Easter" begins with a procession behind the light and towards the light. This procession symbolically sums up the entire catechumenal and penitential journey of Lent" it symbolizes the journey of humanity, which in the night of history was seeking light, seeking paradise, seeking true life, reconciliation between the peoples, between heaven and earth, universal peace" (Pope Benedict XVI).

    Along the way, we pause three times. Last night, at the Good Friday liturgy, we were shown the cross; tonight we are shown the candle. Three times, the candle is held high, and the priest sings, "Christ our Light." And three times we respond, "Thanks be to God." In Christ, "the sadness of death has given way to the bright promise of immortality." Gradually, the light is spread from the Paschal candle to the entire assembly, and from one fragile flame the whole Cathedral is illuminated. Suddenly we can see each other.

Rejoice, heavenly powers!

    It is while we are "standing in this holy light" that the Exsultet is sung, that splendid song of praise which the Church offers to Christ on the night of his rising. This great poem, a rhapsody in the best sense of the word, urges us to rejoice with all of creation in the resurrection of Jesus from the dead. It begins with a series of exclamations so exuberant that it is almost impossible to listen to them without being filled with joy:

Christ has conquered!
Glory fills you!
Darkness vanishes for ever!
Rejoice, O Mother Church!
Exult in glory!
The risen Savior shines upon you!
Let this place resound with joy, echoing the mighty song of all God's people!

    The song then takes us through the long journey of humanity, from God's favor to the chosen people of old, to the passion of Christ, who now rises "triumphant from the grave." Out of suffering, God has brought forth goodness in overwhelming measure:

What good would life have been to us had Christ not come as our Redeemer?
"O happy fault, O necessary sin of Adam,
Which gained for us so great a Redeemer!

In some medieval monasteries, this language was found so shocking that the words "necessary sin" were omitted from the text. "Necessary sin"! A radical concept! And yet these words express just what Jesus said to his disciples on the road to Emmaus: that it was "necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and enter into his glory."

     The Exsultet ends with a cosmic look into the future, to the second coming of Christ: "May the Morning Star which never sets find this flame still burning; Christ, that Morning Star, who came back from the dead and shed his peaceful light on all mankind."

    After the Exsultet, we extinguish our candles. The Liturgy of the Word begins. We listen in darkness, with the light of the Paschal candle--the light of the risen Christ--in our midst. And the ancient stories of the creation and the fall, the faith of Abraham and the love of God, take on wonderful new meanings in that holy light.

    And that's only the beginning! As the Vigil unfolds, we listen to the scriptures and psalms. We sing the Gloria amidst a tumult of bells. And we sing the "alleluia" as we've never sung it before, in the splendid chant that is heard only on this night of the entire year. And then the Church pours out the treasure of the sacraments on the Elect and on us.  If you've never been to the Vigil before, why not come this year?

Corinna Laughlin, Pastoral Assistant for Liturgy

Back to Liturgy Notes:  Holy Week
Return to the Liturgy Notes page