Sitting Vigil with Fr. Chrysogonus

Yesterday I went to the Abbey for the reception of the body of Fr. Chrysogonus into the church. Of all the Trappist funerals I have attended, the reception of the body into the church I have not witnessed. It is worth witnessing.

When the death knell began to ring out a small procession from the monks end of the church crossed from the sacristy. It consisted of a thurifer, paschal candle, Abbot and his chaplain (in other words, someone to hold the book). After a few minutes, singing -- very vague in the distance -- was heard, then speaking. After that more singing, chanting, response, and more chanting. During all this time the bell is still slowly ringing the death knell.

Eventually they appeared at the far end of the church: thurifer putting out clouds of incense, paschal candle, the coffin carried by six monks, Abbot, chaplain, then the community in double file. Abbot Elias and the thurifer and the chaplain all came to stand at the head of the coffin in front of the paschal candle, backs to us so they were facing the community. Prayers, and then the most thorough censing of a body I've ever seen. After that, a prayer and then a blessing. As the community took their place for the start of Vespers, the painted wooden cross was placed at Fr. Chrysogonus feet.

After dinner I came up to start my vigil. Already two monks were saying psalms, one was Br. Rene. I sat in one of the choir stalls near the body. If you knew Fr. Chrysogonus in life then you remember the joyous face, the smiling man with love and goodness just pouring out of him. The beautiful spirit was gone and all that remained was skin stretched across bones. Still, I sat and told him all the things he would not allow me to say in life, because of his humility.

"How beautifully you played.
How lovely and breathtaking your improvisations.
How deep your knowledge.
How much my musical hero you were.
How much you inspired me.
How much you moved me.
How much I loved you.
How much I learned from you."

I stayed until about 9pm and then went home. I will return today about 2 and resume the vigil. His brother monks have never stopped their vigil. All night long they read the Psalms. Some of which he had set to unforgettable music.

And so, I offer this.

John Donne
HOLY SONNETS.

X.

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so ;
For those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy picture[s] be,
Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou'rt slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke ; why swell'st thou then ?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And Death shall be no more ; Death, thou shalt die.