Five Eternal Minutes At Taize

The brown stain of the wooden pews grows darker as the last rays of sunlight take leave from the chapel’s stained glass windows. Flames in the votive candles cast an amber glow upon the faces of the faithful sitting cross-legged on the floor. The flickering lights make the chandeliers dance in shadows upon the walls.

The high-pitched soprano plays piano and leads our singing while an octogenarian plays capable violin by her side. There is repetitive, meditative singing and the offering up of prayers. Some prayers are shared from shy, quaky voices, and some prayers emitted from strong, sure speech. There is more singing with the sopranos, altos, tenors, and basses finding their respective parts. As the final notes of the four part harmony are held and dissipated, we enter an observance of silence. Two hundred people in one room attempt to be still in body and in spirit for five……eternal……. minutes.

Someone sniffles in the corner. A woman stifles a sneeze. A man shifts in his seat and the pew creaks. A man clears his throat. A cell phone vibrates. We wait for the silence. Another man clears his throat. A knee thuds against a pew. A woman scratches her head. Someone coughs. A latecomer enters the chapel and steps on a squeaky floorboard. More coughing, shifting, thudding, clearing, scratching, sniffling, creaking, bumping.

Then miraculously, all two hundred of us ease into the silence like a newborn being lowered into a warm bath. For eight, maybe ten seconds the silence is attained. I feel a sensation like a heated palm massaging a small circle in-between my shoulder blades. There is a gentle beating in my chest. My heart feels suspended, light, floating and expecting. Silence. A transcendent moment.