I just love this time in the Christian calendar. Christmas has been highjacked somewhat but the real party happens now, at Easter. And it’s partly the contrast with Holy Week, when we pretend that we don’t know what’s coming on Sunday. Even though we are halfway through the vacation a small group of us have been continuing to say morning prayer together in Ridley’s chapel. I don’t know why the others come – apart from those who are ordained – as most sensible ordinands are not getting up to gather anywhere for anything at 8.15 am. Perhaps it might be the bacon butties or the croissants or toasted homebaked bread afterwards… But for me it puts the day – my life – in the right place. We met on Good Friday morning, six of us, led beautifully by Rob. It was a very stripped down service which concentrated the mind on the significance of the day and set off wonderfully by starting with Psalm 69. Read it and remember the story of Good Friday.
That was the first of four services that day for me. No 2 was a Good Friday meditation at St Bene’t’s (my adopted church – I have a sort of dual nationality when it comes to which church I belong to). That concentrated the mind and heart even more on the day. After the third hot cross bun of the day (buns for breakfast too) we joined the ecumenical service of witness in the market place, clutching our individual wooden crosses from the meditation service and shivering in the wind. The large cross had to be held in place as the one that the council puts up had been vandalised last year and not replaced. But about 150 people turned up from several denominations and attracted curious stares from passers by and tourists. Are we just a folk or historical curiousity now, I wonder?
The last service was in the large Roman Catholic church in Cambridge where for about the fourth, and last, time I joined the choir for the service of the veneration of the cross, one of the Triduum services. It is a dark service, with unaccompanied singing throughout of several different styles of music. It takes you to the stunned ‘I cannot believe what is happening’ reaction that the disciples and others must have experienced after the crucifixion and burial. The sort of service that you walk or drive away from quietly and thoughtfully. And being a Roman Catholic service – albeit in a not very high church – it has a sense of theatre about it. Something that Anglican churches are often not that concerned about or good at, which is a pity as about two thirds of us are not that grabbed by words but by actions and visuals.
Back to the RC church last night to sing in the choir again in the Easter Saturday vigil, a three hour service. Not to mention the rehearsal before. It all makes for a great deal of singing – much of it almost by sight for me. The service started in complete darkness, with a congregation of about 1,000 – standing room only. Then the west doors opened to show the fire outside. After lighting the paschal candle – imaginatively decorated by the children – from the fire the single flame of light came into the church and processed up the nave to the crossing – with acclamations on the way. We lit our candles, the liturgy began and we sang three or four psalms by their light. At the Gloria all the lights came on, all the altar candles lit, Wayne Marshall in the organ loft went beserk on the keyboards and pedals and lots of bells were rung. Clouds of incense were made and the purple curtain in front of the large rood cross came down – narrowly missing the paschal candle. Easter morning had come. He is risen indeed! Then we were off. Lots of singing, baptisms, confirmations, lighting of candles, more Marshall extravaganzas on the organ – where is he going and how on earth will he get back to the tune/key?, but he always does – and communion, finishing with easter eggs and a celebratory drink aterwards. Musically it was fun, with Wayne in the loft and one quarter of G4 in the choir, and the drama and overall joy of the occasion emphasises the meaning of Easter and why we just have to celebrate it.
Being a bit befuddled getting home after midnight, I mis-set my alarm and managed to wake up too late for the 6.30 am service in my home church. But this morning’s baptisms (full immersion) and confirmations were also a joyful occasion. Bishop John gave an excellent address, all the arrangements worked, the worship was uplifting and it was a wonderful start to Eastertide. But we are Easter People, living in joy and anticipation.
The final seal on the day is the chance that a Brit might just pull off a win in the Masters this evening…
That was the first of four services that day for me. No 2 was a Good Friday meditation at St Bene’t’s (my adopted church – I have a sort of dual nationality when it comes to which church I belong to). That concentrated the mind and heart even more on the day. After the third hot cross bun of the day (buns for breakfast too) we joined the ecumenical service of witness in the market place, clutching our individual wooden crosses from the meditation service and shivering in the wind. The large cross had to be held in place as the one that the council puts up had been vandalised last year and not replaced. But about 150 people turned up from several denominations and attracted curious stares from passers by and tourists. Are we just a folk or historical curiousity now, I wonder?
The last service was in the large Roman Catholic church in Cambridge where for about the fourth, and last, time I joined the choir for the service of the veneration of the cross, one of the Triduum services. It is a dark service, with unaccompanied singing throughout of several different styles of music. It takes you to the stunned ‘I cannot believe what is happening’ reaction that the disciples and others must have experienced after the crucifixion and burial. The sort of service that you walk or drive away from quietly and thoughtfully. And being a Roman Catholic service – albeit in a not very high church – it has a sense of theatre about it. Something that Anglican churches are often not that concerned about or good at, which is a pity as about two thirds of us are not that grabbed by words but by actions and visuals.
Back to the RC church last night to sing in the choir again in the Easter Saturday vigil, a three hour service. Not to mention the rehearsal before. It all makes for a great deal of singing – much of it almost by sight for me. The service started in complete darkness, with a congregation of about 1,000 – standing room only. Then the west doors opened to show the fire outside. After lighting the paschal candle – imaginatively decorated by the children – from the fire the single flame of light came into the church and processed up the nave to the crossing – with acclamations on the way. We lit our candles, the liturgy began and we sang three or four psalms by their light. At the Gloria all the lights came on, all the altar candles lit, Wayne Marshall in the organ loft went beserk on the keyboards and pedals and lots of bells were rung. Clouds of incense were made and the purple curtain in front of the large rood cross came down – narrowly missing the paschal candle. Easter morning had come. He is risen indeed! Then we were off. Lots of singing, baptisms, confirmations, lighting of candles, more Marshall extravaganzas on the organ – where is he going and how on earth will he get back to the tune/key?, but he always does – and communion, finishing with easter eggs and a celebratory drink aterwards. Musically it was fun, with Wayne in the loft and one quarter of G4 in the choir, and the drama and overall joy of the occasion emphasises the meaning of Easter and why we just have to celebrate it.
Being a bit befuddled getting home after midnight, I mis-set my alarm and managed to wake up too late for the 6.30 am service in my home church. But this morning’s baptisms (full immersion) and confirmations were also a joyful occasion. Bishop John gave an excellent address, all the arrangements worked, the worship was uplifting and it was a wonderful start to Eastertide. But we are Easter People, living in joy and anticipation.
The final seal on the day is the chance that a Brit might just pull off a win in the Masters this evening…
2 comments:
Brit to win? - don't be daft!! Enjoyed watching it on BBC on Sat and Sun evenings, not seen such a high scoring tournament before. On Sat especially everyone was really struggling! Did think Rose might do something after the birdies on 15 & 16 in final round, but not to be. Did you hear the guy who won - thanking God and all?!
Sounds like you've had a typically busy but good Easter weekend! Do you ever stop and rest?!
A very happy easter to you my friend.
Post a Comment