This shot I took from behind the high altar, looking toward the north side of the church. The light streams in at 8.00 EDT and works its way down the aisle. Last year it touched the font in the rear of the church. (I was over there last year from 7.00-9.00 on the watch.)
By the time I got over to the church this morning, at 8.00, the candles on the retable had totally burned down into the candle sticks (obviously happened when the person keeping watch was doing it at home, an option we provide for especially given the unpredictable weather we get around Easter, be it mud season, snow storms or both, as it is now). As I kept watch myself, the four little votives in blue burned out.
Once I take down the altar of repose in the church, I transport the sacrament over to the rectory where it spends the day at its own little altar of repose in my dining room. In the course of the day, the two candles I had lit in the glassware had burned out so that all was left was the eight-day votive from church.
By the time we consume the sacrament on Good Friday evening, it has travelled far and wide, a bit odd to consider.
And, now, at this late hour, this is no more sacrament, no more Jesus. It truly is a moment of desolation. The earth is still and quiet and so it shall be for a little time.
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