The fifth movement is eternal silence — savouring. After Communion, do not rush out. Cardinal Ratzinger: "this is the moment for an interior conversation with the Lord." Bishop Cousins instituted a two-minute silence in every diocesan Mass. "First Mass, last Mass, only Mass" — receive each one as though it were the only one you would ever receive.

The fifth and final movement of silence is the silence of savouring — eternal silence. It corresponds to the moments after Communion and the period leading into and following the dismissal.

"A silence of savouring — to learn to savour His love, His presence, His sweetness." The verb savour is doing the work. You can swallow Communion or you can savour it. The difference is what you do in the minutes after reception.

Cardinal Ratzinger (later Benedict XVI): "This in all truth is the moment for an interior conversation with the Lord." The post-Communion silence is the privileged conversation of the Mass — the moment when the Lord is sacramentally within you and you can speak with Him as with the most intimate of friends. To fill those minutes with conversation about parish coffee, or with checking your phone, or with mental planning of the afternoon, is to waste the most intimate sacramental moment of the week.

Bishop Andrew Cousins of the Diocese of La Crosse — Hicks cites him approvingly — instituted a two-minute silence after Communion in every Mass of his diocese. Not five seconds. Not "long enough to put the chalice away." Two full minutes. The pastoral fruits were significant. Two minutes is short enough that any congregation can manage it; long enough that real interior conversation has time to start.

The Maronite rite has a beautiful custom: a silent prayer to the altar at the end of Mass, addressed to the altar as one would address a friend one is leaving. The communicant says, in effect, "Stay well; I will return." The altar represents both Christ and the place of meeting.

"First Mass, last Mass, only Mass" is the disposition Hicks recommends to seal the silence of savouring. Receive each Mass as though it were your first (the shock of grace), your last (the seriousness of dying saint), and your only (no other Mass exists; this one is everything). Many priests are taught to say this Mass tamquam prima, tamquam ultima, tamquam unica — as if it were the first, the last, the only. Lay communicants should adopt the same disposition.

Saint John of the Cross, quoted by Saint Thérèse: "One pure act of love… is of more value to her than all other works together." The silence of savouring is the slot in the week most available for one pure act of love.

The fifth and final movement of silence is the silence of savouring — eternal silence. It corresponds to the moments after Communion and the period leading into and following the dismissal. It is named "eternal" because it is the silence that most resembles the silence of heaven: the wordless rest in the presence of God that is the telos of the Christian life.

"A silence of savouring — to learn to savour His love, His presence, His sweetness." This is the certificate quote of the course, and the verb is doing all the work. You can swallow Communion or you can savour it. The difference is what you do in the minutes after reception. Swallowing is the bare physical act. Savouring is the sustained attention that lets the gift open within you.

Cardinal Ratzinger (later Pope Benedict XVI): "This in all truth is the moment for an interior conversation with the Lord." The post-Communion silence is the privileged conversation of the Mass — the moment when the Lord is sacramentally within you and you can speak with Him as with the most intimate of friends. There is no other moment in the week with quite this density of presence. To fill those minutes with chatter about parish coffee, or with checking your phone, or with mental planning of the afternoon, is to waste the most intimate sacramental moment of the week. The waste is not catastrophic — the grace of Communion is given anyway — but it is unnecessary.

Bishop Andrew Cousins of the Diocese of La Crosse — Hicks cites him approvingly — instituted a two-minute silence after Communion in every Mass of his diocese. Not five seconds, not "long enough to put the chalice away," but two full minutes. The pastoral fruits were significant: increased reverence, increased reports of consolation, increased frequency of confession (because the silence surfaced things). Two minutes is a key duration. Short enough that any congregation can manage it without restiveness; long enough that real interior conversation has time to start. If your parish does not observe a post-Communion silence, you can keep it interiorly: do not pick up a missalette, do not look around, do not stand up the moment the priest does. Stay kneeling for two minutes by your own count.

The General Instruction of the Roman Missal (§88) calls for "sacred silence" after Communion. This is the Church's own prescription. Most parishes do not observe it well, but the rubric is there.

The Maronite rite has a beautiful custom that Hicks highlights: a silent prayer addressed to the altar at the end of Mass, said as one would address a friend whom one is leaving. The communicant pauses before the altar and says, in effect, "Stay well; I will return." The altar represents both Christ and the place of meeting. The custom captures something the Roman Rite largely leaves to the individual: the deliberate farewell, which is also a promise to come back.

"First Mass, last Mass, only Mass" is the disposition Hicks recommends to seal the silence of savouring. The Latin form, traditionally taught to priests in preparation for ordination, is tamquam prima, tamquam ultima, tamquam unica: as if it were the first, the last, the only. Receive each Mass as though it were the first — with the wide-eyed shock of someone encountering this grace for the first time. The last — with the deliberate seriousness of a dying saint, for whom this Mass is the final preparation. The only — as if no other Mass existed, in this life or any other, and this single Mass were the entirety of God's self-gift. The disposition is normally taught to priests, but it applies to every communicant. If you adopt it, the routinisation that makes Mass dull after twenty years cannot get its grip.

Saint John of the Cross, quoted by Saint Thérèse of Lisieux, gives the final theological warrant: "One pure act of love… is of more value to her than all other works together." The silence of savouring is the slot in the week most available for one pure act of love. The whole rest of the week may be a tangle of half-loves, mixed motives, anxious productions. The two minutes after Communion can be pure. Take them.

The five movements of silence are now complete. Movement 1 (preparation, ascetical): you arrived and stilled the globe. Movement 2 (listening, mystical): the Word addressed you and you let it land. Movement 3 (offering, sacrificial): you stretched your attention and placed your life on the altar. Movement 4 (communion and adoration, contemplative): the fabric of reality opened and you kissed. Movement 5 (savouring, eternal): you stayed in the presence and did not flee.

Five movements. One Mass. The whole of the Christian life is in those five movements; the rest of the week is the unfolding. Course A7 walked the Mass externally; A8 has now walked it interiorly. The two together are the v3 Mass formation. Beyond these, the work is simple: go to Mass; observe the silences; let them shape you.

"Do not rush out of it. Stay a little longer."