Saturday's evening service (6.30pm) is called the Easter Vigil. It's a new service for many Anglicans and heralds the official beginning of Easter. If you havent been before come and see. In this candlelit service we hear well known stories from the Bible, renew our baptismal vows and the receive Holy Communion.
If we could travel back in time to the fourth century we would find God's Church at the cusp of massive growth in the dying days of the Roman Empire. After a period of horrific persecution the Church was legalised by the new Emperor, Constantine and believers found new freedoms. Many in the church however were unsure as to how to deal with the large numbers of pagans seeking baptism. Was it simply fashion or were they genuine? Some felt that all this populism was diluting the historic faith and went off to the desert looking for a 'purer' exercise of discipleship. The Easter Vigil is a product of that time and is well documented by for example, St Ambrose.
For candidates for baptism this was the highlight of their spiritual journey and the occasion in which they were baptised. It was at this service that they were anointed and heard the Bible stories of salvation. The evidence is that the liturgy went through the night. Men and women were baptised fully into baths in separate rooms. They were then presented dressed in white to the overseer (bishop) who lay hand on them to confirm and seal the work of the Holy Spirit. They then were finally initiated via Holy Communion. Up until then none of them would have seen the Eucharist since it was done in private. In fact much of their journey was carefully planned exposing them bit by bit to the service. In the Orthodox Church they still dismiss the catechumens after the sermon with the words 'The doors the doors'. (There is a story that Metropolitan Anthony, the Russian bishop in London, had a chill in the cold church and intoned; 'The doors the doors - shut the bloody doors!')
Now we find ourselves in Britain in a less religious more secular country and the rites of the Church need to accomodate this. Large sections of the population remain unbaptised and common language of the Faith is becoming less and less familiar. On this Good Friday in Salcombe we had our procession with wooden cross around town. As we moved to Chapel End a young lad shouted out. "Has someone's died?". I replied 'Jesus'. He promptly ran back into the house 'Mum's Jesus is dead!'. I added, shouting over the fence, 'Dont worry on Sunday he rises?' According to researchers in this field we are now talking of three generations of de-churched people. The task for us is really challenging.
The Easter Vigil calls us to use our imagination, to rediscover liturgies which enchant. It also calls us to take seriously the task of journeying with people seeking faith.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Good Friday Blog
Sorry folks its been a while since I blogged.
'I hate Jesus of Nazareth' was one of those lines you dont easily forget. A fellow and rather loud student burst into our common room, made the comment and ran off. This was 1993 and I had set up Franco Zeferreli's TV-movie in the seminary common room during Holy Week. (You know the one with Robert Powell - isnt he now in Holby City rather than the Holy City?) It was obsviously not to everyone's tastes and some staff made grunted comments that I was competing with the programme of liturgies they had set up. I had put this on because I felt that our ceremonies and rites had become a performance. Our endless rehearsals were almost too perfect, too anodine, too precise and I wasnt get much out of it.
Films like 'Jesus of Nazareth' or 'The Passion of the Christ' remind us that if we as Christians are not touched by the story of Good Friday then we are in trouble. It is all too easy for us as clergy and all those involved in preparing liturgies to be get so caught up in the planning and the details that we dont get anything out of it.
I recall as a deacon in my first year of ministry collapsing on the sofa Good Friday afternoon. It was 1998 and I was exhausted from the packed programme our busy parish had to offer. I channel hopped until I got to BBC1 where they were showing Ben Hur. Again, one of my favourite films, it goes on a bit, but it powerfully puts over the story of the Cross. At the point of crucifixion (Charlton Heston was saying something profound) the camera pans in on Jesus in agony, dying, thunder, lightning. Then to my initial annoyance a ticker tape runs underneath, with a news item. C'mon BBC, get this off! Not now! But I read closely. 'Northern Ireland peace talks concluded with agreement'. 'By his wounds we have been healed' says Charlton Heston/Ben hur. (I feel weepy even writing this.) And suddenly, that was it! Good Friday touched me, lanced me, threw me at Golgotha. Wham Bam!
And that, and many other thoughts , lead to believe that this, not Christmas, or Easter, is the greatest day of the year. We talk of being 'moved'. 'Being moved' speaks of a powerful emotional experience. It's a good expression, because it shows that being touched emotionally is not just a feeling but about doing something with that. In Good Friday, God through Jesus, moves us so that we can move. Martin Luther King said that love without power is mere sentiment. The power of Good Friday is what God does for us.
Yet, if we are not move, nothing will move. If we are not touched by the Gospel then how can we expect anyone else to be?
'I hate Jesus of Nazareth' was one of those lines you dont easily forget. A fellow and rather loud student burst into our common room, made the comment and ran off. This was 1993 and I had set up Franco Zeferreli's TV-movie in the seminary common room during Holy Week. (You know the one with Robert Powell - isnt he now in Holby City rather than the Holy City?) It was obsviously not to everyone's tastes and some staff made grunted comments that I was competing with the programme of liturgies they had set up. I had put this on because I felt that our ceremonies and rites had become a performance. Our endless rehearsals were almost too perfect, too anodine, too precise and I wasnt get much out of it.
Films like 'Jesus of Nazareth' or 'The Passion of the Christ' remind us that if we as Christians are not touched by the story of Good Friday then we are in trouble. It is all too easy for us as clergy and all those involved in preparing liturgies to be get so caught up in the planning and the details that we dont get anything out of it.
I recall as a deacon in my first year of ministry collapsing on the sofa Good Friday afternoon. It was 1998 and I was exhausted from the packed programme our busy parish had to offer. I channel hopped until I got to BBC1 where they were showing Ben Hur. Again, one of my favourite films, it goes on a bit, but it powerfully puts over the story of the Cross. At the point of crucifixion (Charlton Heston was saying something profound) the camera pans in on Jesus in agony, dying, thunder, lightning. Then to my initial annoyance a ticker tape runs underneath, with a news item. C'mon BBC, get this off! Not now! But I read closely. 'Northern Ireland peace talks concluded with agreement'. 'By his wounds we have been healed' says Charlton Heston/Ben hur. (I feel weepy even writing this.) And suddenly, that was it! Good Friday touched me, lanced me, threw me at Golgotha. Wham Bam!
And that, and many other thoughts , lead to believe that this, not Christmas, or Easter, is the greatest day of the year. We talk of being 'moved'. 'Being moved' speaks of a powerful emotional experience. It's a good expression, because it shows that being touched emotionally is not just a feeling but about doing something with that. In Good Friday, God through Jesus, moves us so that we can move. Martin Luther King said that love without power is mere sentiment. The power of Good Friday is what God does for us.
Yet, if we are not move, nothing will move. If we are not touched by the Gospel then how can we expect anyone else to be?
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