The Papal Yoke Is Light Today

The Easter Vigil was beautiful.

WordGirl and I arrived very early, just in time in fact to see our bishop heading toward the cathedral carrying two heavy cases. I ran up and offered to take one from him. We chatted while walking over to the church and the conversation once again confirmed that there are no nicer and more godly men on the face of the earth than our bishop.

Case in point: it was unseasonably cold last night, and WordGirl was wearing a dress. The bishop offered to loan her his coat for the service.

The vigil began with a candlelit procession outside the church. We braved the cold as the initial portion of the ceremony and the lighting of the candles took place while exposed to the frigid wind. We then proceeded into the sanctuary and took our places near the front.

The first reading was from the book of Genesis and detailed the creation of the universe and man. After a psalm and prayer, WordGirl got up and read the Old Testament passage concerning the escape of the Jews from Egypt. A more stirring rendition of this oft-read bit of Scripture you will not find.

After another psalm and prayer, it was my turn to approach the lectern, this time to read a bit from Isaiah, the "my word will not return void" passage. Of course, I had the misfortune to follow WordGirl, valedictorian of the Emily Post School of Perfect Diction. Moreover, it was at this point that a baby in the back decided to start crying in the earsplitting fashion they used to torture us with during survival training.

I got through it, didn't trip on my way down, and that's all I have to say about that.

We had another couple of readings, including the gospel reading by our deacon and an epistle, and then the bishop and priests went to the font to bless the holy water for the coming year. (We had no catechumens, so we simply renewed our baptismal promises) They marched in procession up and down the aisles, blessing us with holy water as we crossed ourselves.

Then came the big show.

We marched up to the foot of the altar with our godparents (in our case, our stand-ins; our godparents were celebrating Easter out of town with family). We were prayed over, professed our faith, and the bishop came to each of us in turn, placed his hands on our heads, and silently prayed over us. It was a powerful moment.

We were then each called up to the altar with our godparent. The bishop anointed our foreheads (with camphor, I think) and shook our hands, saying, "Peace be with you."

The proper response, of course, is "And also with you."

My response was, "Thank you, your excellency", prompting the deacon to lean in and say, "And also with you", to which I nearly responded, "And you too, Deacon."

WordGirl, of course, cried through hers, but still remembered the proper protocol.

At last the moment came. We sang "Holy Holy Holy", we prayed for the blessing of our offerings and the Eucharist, we sang "Lamb of God", we recited the mystery of faith, and we entered the line for our first communion.

The bishop was serving, of course, with the deacon to his right. One of our RCIA brethren, out of gratitude to our deacon, moved to receive her first taste of the Eucharist from him. He quickly pointed her to the bishop, and changed position so that none of the rest of us would be tempted. I bowed, stepped up to the bishop, and received the Host on my tongue, then stepped to the left to join the line for the blood of Christ.

I was unfortunately less schooled in how to accept this specie---moreover, I couldn't see beyond the back of the person in front of me. When I stepped up, I fell back into Episcopal practice and simply lowered my lips to the cup, prompting the flummoxed server to eventually tip it up for me to sip a drop or two.

WordGirl was merciless when we got back to the pew after that.

The vigil ended soon thereafter, and our fellow RCIAers enlisted us to ask the bishop if he would be willing to pose for photos. WordGirl being ever the savvy operator had him bless her St Catherine of Sienna necklace first.

We posed with the bishop, chatted with some of the folks who had remained behind, then finally took our leave, Catholic at last, right down to having to stop on the way home for Krispy Kreme cinnamon buns.

We were home.