Holy Week
Some 20 years ago, just before I was ordained, I was fortunate enough to be able to spend Holy Week and Easter at Mirfield (which is both a monastery and a theological college). It was an amazing, once in a lifetime experience. Away from the distractions of ordinary life, it was possible to be really immersed in the season, its liturgy and traditions.
This year many of you will be in some ways out of ordinary life, though some will be extra busy in the changed circumstances, but for most of us the usual distractions of life may be missing. It will be something of a struggle without the use of our church buildings, but I thought it worth outlining the ideal, as well as giving some of the story.
At Mirfield we celebrated Palm Sunday with great joy, as the crowds had, welcoming Jesus as our king and singing the traditional hymns. Then Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday we had the regular pattern of worship, Morning prayer, Eucharist, midday prayer, evening prayer and compline (!) Then Wednesday evening the great silence began – to last until Easter Day.
Maundy Thursday followed the pattern we have here, peaceful and reflective as feet were washed and the Last Supper celebrated. Then the dramatic stripping of the altar and its surroundings – bleakness as Jesus went to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray and is betrayed by Judas. Jesus asked his disciples to watch with him but they fell asleep. Here we keep watch until 9pm. At Mirfield we took turns to watch through night until Good Friday liturgy began at noon. That was a very powerful experience, alone with Christ in the dark hours of the night.
The service on Good Friday filled the hours from noon until 3pm, the traditional three hours. There is real desolation here.
The day after the crucifixion nothing could be done, as it was the Sabbath, and at Mirfield it was dismal, nothing to do, silence still of course, even the food was very plain. Early to bed because ………..
Sunday up very early (4.30 I think), to gather in the chapel and watch for the first light of dawn to creep through the east window. This was greeted with noise (the long silence was broken with bells and whistles, with singing, in a chapel which had been transformed with flowers and candles. Such a contrast symbolising the joy of the risen Christ. All this followed by a breakfast of champagne and bacon and eggs!
To be immersed in all this was very powerful and unforgettable. This year our Holy Week and Easter will lack the symbols. No waving of palm crosses, No familiar hymns. I will miss the particular atmosphere of Maundy Thursday and the stripping of the altar. Good Friday I find difficult, I know it isn’t supposed to be joyful but there does seem to be too much wallowing in the gore, and (probably heresy), I can’t accept God punishing an innocent man for my yet uncommitted sins! (I am about to retire, they can’t sack me now) I see the cross as representing the worst man can do to God, and God overcoming it.
It isn’t possible to make Holy Saturday as desolate as it should be – but perhaps the current situation may make it more so than usual.
We don’t have a dawn service here – I think I might be alone – but our Easter Vigil at St Agnes is a good approximation. We light a fire outside and light the Paschal candle and the candles of the people from it. The Paschal Candle, the new light of Christ, is brought in to church. We sing traditional hymns, we renew our baptismal vows and we celebrate the first Eucharist of Easter. I will miss this deeply this year.
Then Easter Day celebrated in both churches, great joy, singing, and chocolate eggs.
How different it will be this year, without access to our buildings. I will miss you all, Christians are not supposed to be alone, but we will do our best. Please do what you can to immerse yourself in the story, in the season, and remember we are all joining in too. We are all in this together.
It may well be a long Good Friday, but Easter will come!
Edith
