Itβs the darkest day of the liturgical calendar but Good Friday has always been one of my favorite services.
For the entirety of the matins, about 2.5 hours, every light in the church is turned off. At first, only the candles on the iconastasis provide a dim, warm glow. There is a shroud of Christ displayed in front of the altar, surrounded by fresh flowers and icons. This year, you could smell the sweetness of lilies from five feet away.
Thereβs no communion at this service, simply a veneration and a procession. When entering the church, everyone approaches the shroud on their knees, bowing their forehead to the ground three times and crossing themselves. Soon after, we are all given a candle and pass eachotherβs flame around until you can see every face in the room.
Before the final veneration, the priest leads everyone outside, candles in hand, singing in unison. We process around the church three times, illumined only by the bright stars above and the light that we carry in our hands. Iβve always wondered what the Friday night traffic thinks about the 60 tiny fires moving along like ants on the hill as they speed through the dark mountains.
This year, my candle never went out.