The Unexpected Adventure of Holy Week

And how trusting God is always the right decision

Jeffrey Bruno

Apr 04, 2024

A father and son venerate the Cross at St. Vincent Ferrer Church on Lexington Ave.

It's easy to forget that when you place your life in Christ's hands, it's going to be an adventure.

I forgot.

And it's really quite a thing when you wake up to that reality.

But let me start at the beginning.

For the past decade, I've produced a Live Stations of the Cross event for my home parish. It was wonderful, but that was Holy Week for me.

Every hour of the week was occupied with setting up, programming, and rehearsals. Due to all the chaos, it would be fair to say that I "missed" Holy Week every year that I was involved in the production.

But time marched on, and it was time for the next generation of creators to step in and bring a fresh vision—freeing me up for other things. And when I say other things, I mean photographing and writing.

Without skipping a beat, I was honored to be asked to photograph the events of Holy Week for the Dominican Friars of the Province of St. Joseph at St. Vincent Ferrer in New York City.

The procession winds its way to St. Vincent Ferrer on Lexington Avenue.

The week began with a Palm Sunday Procession from St. Catherine of Siena church on 69th and 1st that led to St. Vincent Ferrer on 67th and Lexington. And with crystal blue skies and a radiant sun overhead, Holy Week was off and running.

The moods of the interior of St. Vincent Ferrer are complex. Between the sun's position in the sky and the nature of the Liturgy, it can feel like either heaven or a dungeon. It's amazing.

On Palm Sunday, it felt like heaven. Sun poured through the immense cobalt stained glass windows, with palm branches held high, as the procession, led by a cross of palms, entered the Sanctuary commemorating Christ's entrance into Jerusalem.

Father Reginald Hoefer, O.P. blesses the Palms at St. Catherine of Seina prior to the procession.

As if following a script, the skies opened on Holy Thursday. The slick streets and dark clouds cast a somber mood on the entire city. The church was packed for the Mass of the Lord's Supper, and in a way only the Dominicans could, the Liturgy recalled the ancient in the heart of a modern city.

With voluminous clouds of incense obscuring the domed stone arches and the Schola singing Weber's Freischutz-Messe and motets of Palestrina. It was easy to be immersed in the Sacred and experience the reality of the very Presence of Christ in the Blessed Sacrament on the commemoration of the day Christ instituted this greatest of Gifts to His Church.

Fr. Albert Duggan, O.P. at the pinnacle of the Mass.

Good Friday was quite another thing.

I saw a church at capacity with New Yorkers wrapt with sorrow and gratitude venerating the Crucified Christ.

There were tears.

And those tears always move me—not necessarily to tears but to reflection—because witnessing the impact of Christ's presence in another's life is powerful. And I see that a lot. Like the sacraments, it's an outward manifestation of an inner Truth.

Father Reginald Hoefer, O.P. venerates the Cross.

Later that evening, I attended the Stabat Mater, a spiritual procession to the foot of the Cross. I'd never heard of the Stabat Mater before, let alone experienced one. It means 'the women standing,' echoing Mary at the foot of the Cross. It reflects on her sorrows, and then flowers are placed before a statue of Christ as he lies in death.

No surprise that it begins at the statue of the Pieta… I'm not sure that I'll ever look upon that statue the same way again.

A statue of Christ lies before the main altar during the Stabat Mater.

And that was that.

I gratefully covered the events of Holy Week…but ending on Good Friday.

I was invited to cover the Easter Vigil at St. Vincent Ferrer, but that's where this whole thing gets interesting.

My daughter is getting married in June, and her fiancé was entering the church (Baptism, Confirmation, and Communion) at our local church's Easter Vigil. So, as epic as it would have been to cover the Vigil at St. Vincent Ferrer, family comes first, so I put away my cameras.

Early Saturday morning, the typical family banter about Easter Sunday dinner, who was wearing what, who was picking up who, and all the rest of the herculean logistics of the weekend were in full swing.

But there was a hitch.

It turned out that my wife and I would be the only family attending the Easter Vigil with my daughter's fiancé.

"So the only family members to witness this would be us?" I thought.

The only family members to witness what would be arguably the most critical day in his life would be us?

Shouldn't the entire family and our friends be able to see and treasure this day?

And so it began.

I wrestled with it.

Rejected the notion.

Convinced myself that I should stay planted in the pew.

Wrestled some more…

And then I gave in.

I texted the pastor and asked if I could photograph the Easter Vigil.

I received a simple "Yes!"

The next thing I knew, I was back in photojournalist mode.

And out came the cameras.

And I couldn't have predicted what would happen next in a million years.

The Vigil unfolded in all its reverence and expectation, from darkness to light, from the grave to the Resurrection.

As the clock struck 8 p.m., the Paschal Candle was lit in the darkened church, and the flame passed to a thousand candles held by those gathered.

The glow slowly filled the church with a flickering golden light.

The flame is passed from Monsignor Kennard Tuzenue to parishioners at the start of the Easter Vigil at St. Mary’s Church.

Seven readings from the Old Testament and two from the New Testament recounted the history of Salvation.

Then, the Rites of Christian Initiation began, beginning with the Baptisms.

But something happened as one after the other had the Waters of Life poured upon their heads.

The Holy Spirit.

Ecstatic Joy overwhelmed the Sanctuary, and in an instant, tears of Joy, laughter, and a feeling transcended description filled the air.

I was stunned.

I had been on a trajectory all week.

And I thought it was mine.

And thank God…praise God, it wasn't.

Over the week, I witnessed the love, reverence, and sorrow lived out in Faith's fullest expression.

And while I dreamed of completing it at St. Vincent Ferrer, I was meant to be somewhere else.

I was home. Back with family, celebrating the Resurrection, and witnessing my future son-in-law and his fellow candidates receive the Gift of the Holy Spirit.

And it was there that Holy Week was complete, and the final emotion of the week, arguably the most important, was made manifest…

The Transcendent Joy of the Holy Spirit.

I'll leave it at this.

You'll never be let down when you trust God to guide you.

I thought I was giving something up by not covering the Easter Vigil at St. Vincent Ferrer.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

My place was back home.

Because Joy—the Joy that can only come from Christ—is infinitely better when shared with family and friends.

And thank God, with camera in hand, I can share it with you, too.

My wife, Alicia, and my future Son-In-Law, Rob…now a Catholic!

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