Suspended time in a chapel in Greece. (c) A. Furchert
Conduct the Pause
I had the chance to sing the St. Matthew Passion with the Munich Bach choir for several seasons. There was one moment I will never forget. It was not one of the many beautiful arias sung by gifted musicians which moved my heart, nor some of the deeply felt chorals I was part of. Instead, it was a simple moment of silence. The silence entered, when our conductor, Hansjörg Albrecht, intentionally held onto the rest after Jesus bowed his head and died. When he conducted the last word and tone telling of Jesus death, he stood still, with his arms in suspension, cradling the time. It was as though the whole audience sighed together, like our hearts stood still for a moment, pausing in unison. Only after what felt like an eternity, the conductor moved his arms towards the choir leading us into the choral.
Since then I have known that conducting the pause is as important as conducting the whole Passion. It holds onto the time and creates a moment of sacred suspension, when life is on hold and silence enters.
Suspend Time
This is what our rituals for the Saturday of Holy week are designed to do: To give us this experience of suspended time. Twice we have sat the Easter vigil with the sisters of St. Benedict’s Monastery on Saturday night. It is a joining in the same pause my director in Munich conducted. The long vigil runs the entire night from right after the vigil service in the evening until the early Sunday morning celebration of Mass. The sisters do it in turns in the chapel, with people coming and going every hour. We have found it a time of rest for the soul. Emptying ourselves to experience the fullness of time. Sitting with and through the night.
Cradle Hope
In Germany this day is called “Stiller Samstag”, silent Saturday. It is the stillness, time suspended in the space between death and resurrection, darkness and light, the tomb and new life. During our Sabbatical in Munich, Chuck and I were walking the streets of that city on Silent Saturday. It was beautiful spring weather and tourists and locals alike were flocking the streets and filling the beer gardens. Admittedly it was not very silent. So we escaped by entering the nearest church on our way (Munich has many churches). When we entered time stood still. The heavy door behind us fell back into the frame, suspending the hustle and bustle from the market outside from the audible silence inside. It wasn’t that the church was empty. But the people there quietly kneeled or sat, the atmosphere like a prolonged contemplation. When my eyes got used to the dark I saw that mourners were gathering around Jesus body, which had been taken from the cross and laid on a bed of fabric in front of the altar. I did not grow up catholic and some rituals and forms still feel odd to me. But witnessing these grief-stricken people gathering around the wooden corpse of Jesus moved me to tears. What an imitation of Christ’s passion. What a catharsis, to go through this time of suspension every year. When the street noise is cancelled out and we are cradled between what has been and what is yet to come. Years later, when I sat vigil with our Benedictine friends through the night on Saturday, the time felt sacred in the same way.
Listen with your Heart
And here now is our piece for today, this Silent Saturday. It is the very last piece of Bach’s St. Matthew Passion, the chorus “Wir setzen uns mit Tränen nieder…”, “We sit down in tears…”. Like the very first chorus “Kommt Ihr Töchter helft mir klagen,” Bach lets both choirs sing together, letting them bind together his whole Passion oratorio. Also here he plays with movement and while the first piece of lament almost felt like a dance, this last chorus almost feels like a Lullaby.
68. Chorus I & II
We sit down in tears
And call to thee in the tomb:
Rest softly, softly rest!
Rest, ye exhausted limbs,
Rest softly, rest well.
Your grave and tombstone
shall for the unquiet conscience
be a comfortable pillow
and the soul’s resting place.
Rest softly, rest well.
In utmost bliss our eyes shall then fall asleep.
68. Chor (I, II)
Wir setzen uns mit Tränen nieder
und rufen dir im Grabe zu:
Ruhe sanfte, sanfte ruh!
Ruht, ihr ausgesognen Glieder!
Ruhet sanfte, ruhet wohl!
Euer Grab und Leichenstein
soll dem ängstlichen Gewissen
ein bequemes Ruhekissen
und der Seelen Ruhstatt sein.
Höchst vergnügt
schlummern da die Augen ein.
You might have experienced this soothing quality of Bach’s music throughout our journey through the St. Matthew Passion together. To self sooth is one of the most important skills of building resilience. Walking through a time of grief while humming a lullaby would be such a quality. Lamenting the human lot while letting the violin dance or the flute sing holds together the heavy burden with the freedom of the spirit, which can lighten the burden.
Putting Christ to rest with a lullaby, self soothing ourselves into sleep, this is how we can rest from our exhaustion on this Silent Saturday. The lightness of the lullaby seems to anticipate already the empty tomb. Lightly, we put Jesus to sleep, like a child, which will awake again to a new morning.
“In utmost bliss our eyes shall then fall asleep…”
So for this Holy, Silent Saturday day, suspend time. Listen quietly. Hum along. Move the words in your heart. Conduct the Pause. Wake up to new life.
“Time’s violence rends the soul; by the rent eternity enters.”
This post is the 6th of our Passion Week Consolations 2020. To enter our virtual gathering space click here. To share your thoughts with us, write us here. To Offer Your Gift, click here. If you are looking for personal consultation, visit our PathFinder.
Peace and Blessings, Almut & Chuck