Incense and smoke alarms

Our wonderful friend Barbara Crafton sent this missive this morning about the Great Vigil of Easter at the church in New Jersey where she is serving as interim rector. This is definitely worth a read, and see below this post for photographs from our Easter Vigil at St. Paul's from last Saturday evening...

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St. Luke's Episcopal Church, Metuchen, NJ 

Great Vigil
By Barbara Crafton

It had been some time since incense was used in this church -- so long that the charcoal had expired, it seemed, and was hard to light. Eventually Deacon Bob managed to coax a modest smolder from it, though, and we were off. Because you need incense for the Easter Vigil -- incense and darkness and candles. You can't do an Easter Vigil in a church that's lit up like a convenience store -- no, convenience has very little to do with it. There's no point doing an Easter Vigil at all if you don't want mystery -- that would be like the lady who wrote into the paper asking how she might make a pecan pie that wasn't so sweet. Just don't make a pecan pie, the cooking columnist wrote back.

Oh, it was lovely. People turned out for it, I having harped on it in the bulletin for weeks beforehand and promised strawberries and champagne to anybody still standing after it was over, and the church was respectably filled -- not packed, but respectable. Some of our best readers read the ancient stories. There were no babies to be baptized this year, so the people signed one another with the cross in holy water, their faces tender and beautiful in the candlelight: a son blessing his father, a husband blessing his wife, sisters blessing each other. And the incense was just right -- we didn't want to smoke them to death the first time out, just a gentle plume of sweet-sharp mystery to perfume the reading of the Gospel.

That's when the smoke alarm went off.

They've made huge advances in smoke detection, it seems. The alarm sent out strobes of piercing white light, and the sound of it must certainly have disturbed the repose of the beloved dead out in the memorial garden, not to mention that of our living neighbors. The mood of mystery vanished -- in a puff of smoke, as it were -- and soon firefighters in full regalia and a police officer appeared at the door. You should have been there.

It fell to me to restore reverence after the firefighters left. This would be a challenge, but it is why we study homiletics. Come here, Jesus, I said silently, and began.

What if -- what if---what if it hadn't been a false alarm? What if it had been a real fire? What if this 150-year-old building had gone up like a torch, the building and everything in it: the needlepoint kneelers, the old wooden pews, all the hangings and the purificatory and corporals and all the prayer books? We would have gotten out safely, but the walls would have blackened and then crumbled to the ground, the beams would have plunged to earth, glowing orange as the setting sun. The stained glass might have melted -- certain the lead holding it would have. I wonder if the brass would have melted? The silver would have.

Thoughts would rise in the dark: I was married here, and my kids were baptized here. My wife made the kneelers. My husband' funeral was here, and my son's confirmation. Four generations of our family, all baptized here, in the same white dress.

We would have stood out on Oak Avenue in the dark and watched the firefighters struggle to save it. But in the morning -- Easter morning! -- there would have been a smoking pile of charred wood where one of the prettiest churches you've ever seen used to be.

We would have wept at the sight. Of that I am certain.

But then what? Well, I would have to find us a new place to worship -- if the parish hall were intact, I guess we'd use that. And we'd have been on the phone to Church Insurance, to see about all that. The vestry would have begun the long process if deciding how to rebuild -- because we would rebuild. Without doubt.

Of course, the church we finally built would not be just like this one. No -- we wouldn't make a replica of it. It would be different -- first, because they don't make them like they used to in 1868 and second, because we are not who we were then. We wouldn't make the Stepford version of St. Luke's as we have it now. The church that would rise from its ashes would be different.

The resurrected Christ was different. People who had known him well didn't recognize him. How he was different, I do not know -- I wasn't there. But something about him was so powerfully changed that encountering it changed the lives of those who did, as it continues to transform those who encounter Christ today. A mystery, he was. In broad daylight.

Copyright © 2001-2012 Barbara Crafton - all rights reserved

You can read more of Barbara Crafton on her website The Geranium Farm.

Photos from the Great Vigil of Easter

Bonny Bronson took some terrific photos of the Great Vigil of Easter Saturday evening and then more photos at Sunday morning's Easter celebration.

Posted here are photos from the Great Vigil, and tomorrow I will post photos from Sunday.

Pastor Heather Warren preached one of the finest Easter Vigil sermons I have ever heard. You can hear her sermon by clicking HERE (it is about 15 minutes), or read the text HERE.

Easter blessings to all!

By James Richardson, Fiat Lux

So it begins again: Holy Week, waving palms and Easter beyond

The culmination of Lent is Holy Week – the days leading to Easter. For me, it is the most spiritually moving week of the year.

Tomorrow is Palm Sunday and the beginning of Holy Week. As we did last year, instead of hearing the entire Passion narrative in one sitting, we are pausing in the garden with Jesus and the disciples and our palms. The gospel lesson we are hear will be the first segment of the Passion according to Saint Mark, and it will end as Jesus is arrested.

We will let each day of Holy Week unfold for us, one scene at a time.

On Maundy Thursday, we will hear John's gospel and the washing of feet. On Good Friday, we will take this theme a step further. Beginning at noon, we will hear the full passion narrative according to Saint John, and then seven people from our congregation will describe seven people who were there at the Cross. On Holy Saturday morning, we will mark the descent of Jesus into Hell. On Saturday night, the darkness will be pierced with the first proclamation of Easter.

As I have done in the past, I will blog throughout Holy Week with some of my own experience. I hope you might add your comments about your experiences. There will be no "Monday Funnies" in Holy Week, but don't worry, the jokes will be back in Easter.

Here is a thumbnail guide to the events of Holy Week at St. Paul’s Memorial Church that begins tomorrow:

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Palm Sunday, India, 2006
BBC News

Palm Sunday begins outside with the waving of palms and the great triumphant entry by Jesus into Jerusalem, and then Palm Sunday quickly slides into remembering the betrayal and arrest of Jesus. This year our guest preacher is The Very Rev. Dr. Ian Markham, the president and Dean of the Virginia Theological Seminary.

Monday of Holy Week, we will hold noon Prayers for Peace and a reading of the names of all the soldiers, sailors and Marines who died in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan in the last year, and conclude with a Holy Eucharist at 12:30 pm. Each weekday in Holy Week we will have the “Stations of the Cross” at 6:30 pm, led by our ministry intern, Joe Lenow.

Tuesday of Holy Week, we will hold our 12:15 pm Holy Eucharist.

Wednesday of Holy Week is marked by a noon Eucharist and Evening Prayer at 5:30 pm, and our community night supper.

Maundy Thursday begins the Great Three Days, or Easter Triduum. Consistent with the Hebrew calendar, the first day begins at sundown on Thursday and the third day begins at sundown on Saturday. During the Great Three Days, there are no blessings or dismissals until Easter. The reason is the Church understands the services of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday and the Great Vigil of Easter to be one great continuous liturgy.

The word “maundy” derives from Middle English, and it means “mandate.” Maundy Thursday commemorates the Last Supper when Jesus “mandates” that we remember him each time we experience the bread and wine of our Holy Eucharist.

On Maundy Thursday, we recall that Jesus ate with his disciples, then washed their feet. The focus is on his act of lowering himself to the feet of his followers. Joe Lenow will be preaching.

The first day continues at noon on Good Friday, Jesus lowers himself still further. He goes to the Cross, crucified between two criminals, giving to us his supreme act of love to suffer with us in our pain, and show us that there is more to life than death. From noon to 3pm, we will hear reflections offered by members of the congregation about the figures who are part of this great story – Mother Mary, Herod, Peter, Pilate, Mary Magdalene and others.

At 7 pm, we will distribute Communion bread that we have reserved from Maundy Thursday and kept in the Chapel. At 8 p.m., we dim candles, one at a time, and hear readings from the Book of Lamentations, in the solemn observance of Tenebrae, a Latin word meaning “shadows.”

On Holy Saturday morning, at 9 a.m., we assemble in the chapel for a brief time for the prayers marking the second day, when Christ descends into Hell itself to open the gates wide and let everyone out.

On Saturday evening at 7:30 pm, after sundown comes our first opportunity to celebrate the third day of Easter: The Resurrection. We assemble for the Great Vigil of Easter – the biggest, most splendid and opulent worship of the entire year.

We light a fire outside, and bring the light of the Paschal candle into the church. The Paschal Candle leads our procession, and there are no crucifixes carried on this night. We are done with the Cross.

Inside the church, sitting in the dim light, we hear again the story of creation. And then with lights on, and bells ringing, we declare the Resurrection – we loudly declare Christ has Risen! – and we experience again the joy of Easter and our first Eucharist of the Easter season.

Bring a bell and come join us.

On Easter Sunday morning we gather in the sunlight, our Lent completed and our new life in Christ begun once again. Our services Easter Sunday are at 8 am, 9:15 am and 11:15 am and 5:30 pm.

Alleluia! The Lord is Risen! The Lord is Risen Indeed! Alleluia!

By James Richardson, Fiat Lux

Telling the old story, making it our own: Alleluia! Christ is Risen!

My sermon from tonight:

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Alleluia! Christ is Risen!

We stand in the dark. We light a fire and follow a candle inside. We sing, we chant, we light our own candles. We ring bells, and we tell the story of creation and the story of prophets and the story of God come among us.

What we are doing is being done all over the world tonight as it has been done for two millennia. What we are doing is very ancient, very human, indeed, even very primordial.

Consider this: Long ago, before the time of mass media, before the time of Jesus and Moses and the Bible, before the time of the written word – long, long, long ago – people did what we do tonight.

They sat at the campfire and they shared a meal, and they told the story of how their ancestors were saved from certain calamity by a greater power than themselves.

In the telling and the re-telling, meal after meal, the story became their own story.

The telling was not just about reciting and analyzing dry facts, but making the story come alive to them no matter how dark it was at that moment beyond the campfire.

We, too, do this tonight. We gather around the fire, surrounded by the darkness of the world, and we tell the ancient story and make the story our own.

We affirm our deepest bonds with each other, our deepest hopes for each other, and we share again in the meal of our ancestors, our Holy Eucharist, and the darkness will not enter.

Yet if we are not careful, we can get lost amidst of candles and music, lost in the poetry and the rituals; lost in the analyzing and theologizing; and we might lose sight of the reality of the story and how it is anchored in historical fact.

If we are not careful, the story might become only a soft metaphor, or a theological allegory, and then we run the danger of missing the ultimate challenge that the story puts squarely at our feet.

So, if you will, enter into this story as fact. Step back into a time long ago, to the early dawn in the hours after Jesus was executed by the Romans on a cross.
Stand for a few moments at the empty tomb.

Yet we have an immediate difficulty: The story of the empty tomb comes to us in four versions, each a little different.

In the oldest of the gospels, Mark, we hear of a group of women who go to Jesus’ tomb to anoint his body and find it empty. They meet a “young man dressed in a white robe” who pleads with them to be not alarmed. But they are terrified, and flee, “and they said nothing to anyone.”

The oldest versions of Mark end right there.

The Gospel of Luke adds two men in dazzling clothes at the empty tomb instead of one. The women go back to tell the disciples – they certainly do talk about it – and Peter returns to the tomb and is “amazed.”

In the Gospel of John, the last of the gospels to be written, it is Mary Magdalene who comes alone to the tomb to find it empty. Mary Magdalene weeps, and there is a deafening quiet, and she sees two angels, and then she sees a man, and thinks he is the gardener. Mary recognizes the gardener as Jesus and she tries to embrace him. Tears of grief become tears of joy.

In the Gospel of Matthew that we hear tonight, the story of the empty tomb is at its most dramatic – earthquakes and lightening, guards petrified “like dead men,” and an angel telling the women at the tomb: “Do not be afraid” – the same words the angel said at his birth.

The women flee “with fear and great joy” but before they run far, they meet Jesus who tells them “Greetings!” and he gives them a message for the other disciples that he will meet them in Galilee.

Roughly the same story, but the details differ.

We have the right to ask: Did this really happen? Or is this a fairy tale or the figment of hopeful imaginations?

And if did happen, what does it have to with us? So what? Maybe this one man did rise from the dead, but only one? What’s that to do with me?

Let me suggest there are good reasons to believe this story, that the creator who created all things created this amazing event.

And let me also suggest that it makes a great deal of difference to us not just in the next world, but in how we live in this world – maybe most especially in this world.
Let me explain this as best I can.

First, did Jesus really die on the Cross? Maybe his followers rescued him in the nick of time – and these stories of the Risen Christ are really about the next chapter in his earthly career.
But I don’t find that plausible. He was a trouble-making Jew, he threatened the established order of the Romans, there is no way they would have let him get away with it. He was doomed by them from the start.

The Romans would have tortured and executed him with no mercy. The Romans were very good at one thing: killing people. People did not survive crucifixion. Anyone attempting a rescue would have found himself up on the next cross.

As Andrew Guffey, in his homily on Friday pointed out, Golgatha – the Place of the Skull – was perfectly named. It was an advertisement for death. The Romans took people there to die, to destroy not just their bodies, but their hope. There was absolutely no escape.

Could his reappearance have been collective psychosis, or a product of dreams and ghost stories by people in deep grief? Maybe those dreams gradually morphed into the story of a new spiritual awakening.

Perhaps.

But people of the time were accustomed to ghost stories, and as New Testament scholar N.T. Wright points out, they were also accustomed to dreaming of the dead. They knew about ghosts. 

They were also accustomed to gradual spiritual awakenings and they knew about collective psychosis from grief.

And they were accustomed to venerating the tombs of prophets and holy people.

But they were not accustomed to this.

These stories of the empty tomb and the Risen Christ describe something very different than anything they had every experienced.

Not ghosts, not dreams, and not a gradual spiritual awakening.

They describe a sudden, unexpected, startling – frightening – reappearance of a human being they saw tortured and executed. And he comes back to them not as a ghost, but whole and healed.

The details of the story changed with the telling, the details morphed by word of mouth. But one basic fact did not change in the telling: that these fearful followers encountered the Risen Jesus with them again, and it changed them.

If you read the descriptions closely – he looked the same but was strangely different. They could touch him physically, but he would pop into a closed room, or walk beside them on a road to a town called Emmaus, or would cook them breakfast on a beach.

Sometimes they recognized him instantly, other times it took awhile to recognize him.
The greatest evidence that this happened is in the change to the people themselves. These encounters utterly transformed them. They became new people right then and there.

The key are these words – “Do not be afraid.”

Their encounter with the Risen Christ stripped them of all fear. They had scattered to the wind soon after the arrest of Jesus; now they didn’t care what the Romans threw at them.

They might be arrested and tortured themselves – as, indeed, many were. But nothing would turn them around. Nothing. No power on earth would turn them around, and they were willing to die rather than change back into the fearful people they had once been.

I believe the only way they went willingly to their own death is that these encounters with the Risen Christ were rooted in fact.

What does this have to do with us?

Everything. This same Risen Christ comes to us, and is present with us here, now, and every single day.

Yes, we may get sick, and our bodies will surely give out one day. We may stand against injustice and get beaten back.

But we have nothing to be afraid of – nothing at all.

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I want tell you a story – a very old story; the story our ancestors told around the campfire.
The story begins in darkness, where there is only nothing.

Then God created the universe from nothing. There was a spark, and there was light, and there were stars and planets, and this fragile earth, our island home.
And God saw that it was good.

God created every living being on this earth, and God created human beings, and God saw that life was very good.

God sent angels and prophets and sages to tell the human beings:
“Do not be afraid, God is with you, God made you good, so take care of all that I have given you, and love each other and love all that I have created that is good.”

But human beings were full of fear, and they began to believe that death had more power than life, so they made a pact with death.

People became filled with hatred and greed, they exploited one another, they brought forth wars and dictators, genocides and Holocausts.

So God sent them laws, Torah, and God commanded them to love God and to love each other as God loves them.

But then human beings began to worship the letter of the law and forget its purpose, and they became rigid and tribal, and still all they could see was their own fear.

So God came to them, as one of them, the Word made flesh, a man, to show them how to love each other, how to heal each other, and how to live without fear and without hatred.

God walked with them for a time in the only way God knew how – as a poor, lowly servant, a peasant carpenter, a healer and a teacher.

He taught them to do as he did, to love each other as he loved them, and to not be afraid, and a few began to understand that these blessings, especially in the moments when they were hurting or grieving or in danger.

But human beings still lived in fear and hatred.

So the Word made flesh went to the Cross, and surrendered to the powers of fear and death to show them that those powers ultimately have no hold on them.

He died as we died, and then came back to his first followers, and he touched them.
He showed them that the line between life and death is only a horizon.

And he kept coming. He came to many, whether they believed in him or not.
He came to them in closed rooms and in closed hearts.

He came to them where they lived and worked; in classrooms and hospital rooms; in churches and in homeless shelters; on the battlefields and the killing fields; on the streets and in the cotton fields; at the lunch counter and in the jail; in farm labor camps and in concentration camps.

The Risen Jesus came wherever God’s people are hurting.
He came everywhere.

He told them – and us – that we have nothing to be afraid of, nothing at all.
Love each other as I have loved you; do not be afraid.

Life and love, healing and wholeness get the last word always, and I will be with you always – always.

Have strength, have courage, and do as I do: feed the hungry, heal the sick, be with the lonely and the prisoners. Love each other, and show your love every single day. You have nothing to be afraid of. Nothing.

And they were not afraid. Not ever again.

Alleluia! Christ is Risen!

To find the biblical readings for the Great Vigil of Easter (and they are many), click HERE.  May you have many blessings this Easter and always . . .


Photos by Bonny Bronson of our Great Vigil of Easter at St. Paul's Memorial Church, April 23, 2011.

Holy Saturday: Jesus goes to Hell to break down the gates and let everyone out

I hope you have followed the Lenten reflections offered by members of St. Paul's. They've been remarkable, and each has underlined for me the depth and breadth of the people of St. Paul's (we've posted all of the reflections on a special blog you can read by clicking HERE).

It is my privilege to offer the reflection for today in the Lenten reflections, and I am reprinting it below:

Isaiah 42: 5-7, Psalm 16: 8-11 , 1 Peter 3: 18-20, Matthew 27: 50-53

When I was a small child in church I got chills whenever we would recite the part of the Apostles’ Creed that proclaimed Jesus went to Hell. Stop and listen to those words: “He descended into hell."

Did the adults know what they were saying?

It was not until the fifth decade of my life that I began to understand the line. And when I did it was one of those amazing moments of clarity. I had arrived at Holy Saturday, a day that is crucial to understanding the relationship that all of humanity – indeed, all of creation – has with the Risen Christ of Easter.

On Good Friday, the first day of Easter, Jesus dies on the Cross. Holy Saturday, the second day, is when Jesus opens the gates of Hell to let everyone out. On Holy Saturday, Jesus has robbed Hell of its power. Death is the enemy, and death is vanquished.

Without Holy Saturday, the resurrection of Jesus has very little to do with us. With Holy Saturday, we go with him. Holy Saturday is the fulcrum between the Cross and Easter.

Holy Saturday is a proclamation that no one, not even those who are already dead, is beyond Grace. The concept of Holy Saturday pushes us to reconsider the all-too-human urge to put limits on God’s mercy. On Holy Saturday, Jesus comes to find us in our deadest moments not just in the next world but also in this world.

Because of Holy Saturday, Jesus not only dies for us; Jesus dies with us, and he reveals himself as God-become-human, showing us a way to live without fear. Easter becomes not just about the One, but about all of us.

Collect for Holy Saturday

O God, Creator of heaven and earth: Grant that, as the
crucified body of your dear Son was laid in the tomb and
rested on this holy Sabbath, so we may await with him the
coming of the third day, and rise with him to newness of life;
who now lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one
God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Liturgical notes: Holy Saturday is remembered with a series of simple prayers and psalms on Saturday morning. If you have a chance, join me in the chapel at 9 am -- the service is quite brief.

Tonight at 7:30 pm we celebrate the Great Vigil of Easter. This is by far my favorite service of the year, and it is the most important on the Church calendar. We begin by lighting a fire, and then processing into the darkness of the church. The Great Vigil of Easter, also called the “Paschal Vigil” or the “Divine Liturgy” is the first official celebration of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ in the Easter season.

Historically, the earliest known accounts of The Great Vigil of Easter date to the early 3rd century of the Common Era. In the ancient church, it was at this service that people, especially children, were baptized and adults received as catechumens into full communion with the Church. The Vigil is held in the hours of darkness between sunset on Holy Saturday and sunrise on Easter Day. The Great Vigil of Easter is considered to be the first celebration of Easter because Hebrew and early Christian tradition consider feasts and other great days to begin at sunset.

In the Roman Catholic, Orthodox and Anglican Communion (of which the Episcopal Church is fully a part), the Easter Vigil is the most important Mass of the liturgical year, and is the first celebration of the Eucharist during the fifty-day long celebration of Eastertide. The service begins outside with the lighting of the Easter fire, and then the congregation proceeds inside following the Paschal Candle and led by the cantor chanting the Exsultet. In darkness, we hear the story of how God’s people are delivered from darkness. Finally, we proclaim Easter and the Resurrection of Jesus Christ and we celebrate our Eucharist. For the first time since the beginning of Lent, we proclaim “Alleluia!”

Art: "He is Risen," by He Qi

Easter fire

Here is a video of the lighting of the new paschal fire outside St. Paul's last night, at the start of our Great Vigil of Easter. Many blessings to all...

Alleluia! Christ is Risen!

The Lord is Risen indeed!

We had a glorious Vigil of Easter tonight. We began outside with the lighting of the fire, and the procession of the Paschal Candle. By candlelight we heard the stories of our Hebrew ancestors, and then with lights blazing and bells ringing, we proclaimed the Easter faith: Christ is Risen!

And Christ is with us now, and always, bringing us healing, wholeness and hope.

May you have a blessed Easter!

So it begins: What happens in Holy Week

We enter into Holy Week tomorrow: We remember the events of betrayal, crucifixion, and entering into Hell itself. At the end of Holy Week comes the joyous declaration of Resurrection, new life. The fruits of Easter – and Spring - will soon be with us.

Before we go there, I’d like to sketch for you what transpires at St. Paul's in Holy Week (you will find this similar to the sermon I preached last Sunday). It is my hope and prayer that you will not rush through this the holiest of weeks of our year. I’d like you not to skip from Palm Sunday to Easter without experiencing the richness of what comes in between and the depth of its meaning for us in our walk of faith.

Please accept my personal invitation to participate in as much of Holy Week as you can, wherever you are, and to be especially attentive to the Holy Spirit working within you. Listen for the Holy Spirit, allow yourself to be made new, just as Easter makes each of us new.

I will post on this site each day of Holy Week to explain a bit of what we are doing and why, and to share what I am experiencing. I will also give you a heads up on what comes the next day. And, sorry, no Monday Funnies this week, but it will return the day after Easter Day.

Holy Week is first and last about servanthood, ours to each other, and Christ as servant to all of us. The events of Holy Week represent Jesus lowering himself, step by step, into the fullness of servanthood: Jesus declares, “Where I am, there will my servant be also.”

The first day of Holy Week is tomorrow, the day called, The Sunday of the Passion: Palm Sunday. It begins with the waving of palms and the great triumphant entry by Jesus into Jerusalem, and then Palm Sunday quickly slides into remembering the tragedy and torture of the crucifixion soon to come.

On Monday of Holy Week, we will end our regular noon Prayers for Peace with a Holy Eucharist at 12:30 pm.

On Tuesday of Holy Week, we will hold our noon Holy Eucharist, and at 7:30 pm, our university students will lead their very moving – haunting – chants of Taize.

Wednesday of Holy Week is marked by our Evening Prayer at 5:30 pm and our community night supper. Then I will lead an instructed Eucharist at 7 pm, pausing along the way to explain a bit about how and why we do what we do in the Eucharist.

The three days of Easter begin on Thursday evening at 7:30 pm – Maundy Thursday. We begin the great three days on Thursday, in keeping with the Hebrew calendar in which the new day begins at sundown. The third day begins at sundown on Saturday.

During the Great three days, classically called the Easter Triduum, there are no blessings or dismissals. The reason is the Church understands the services of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday and the Great Vigil of Easter to be one great continuous liturgy.

The word “maundy” derives from Middle English, and it means “mandate.” Maundy Thursday commemorates the Last Supper when Jesus “mandates” that we remember him each time we experience the bread and wine of our Holy Eucharist.

On Maundy Thursday, we recall that Jesus ate with his disciples, then washed their feet. The focus, though, is not on the meal, but on his act of lowering himself to the feet of his followers.

At St. Paul’s on Maundy Thursday, we will wash the feet of all who wish to have their feet washed, and we will celebrate our last Eucharist before the day of Resurrection. Truly, our mandate is to serve each other and the world.
We will strip the Altar to its bare wood, and we will take consecrated unleavened bread and keep it in a place of reverence in the chapel. We do so to signify that Jesus is still with us even as he hangs on the Cross.

At noon on Good Friday, Jesus lowers himself still further. He goes to the Cross, crucified between two criminals, giving to us his supreme act of love to suffer with us in our pain, and show us that there is more to life than death.

On Good Friday we will offer solemn prayers at noon, and again offer those prayers at 5 p.m. After the five-o’clock prayers, we will, in silence, distribute the bread we have reserved in the chapel, a mark of Jesus being with us especially in times of pain.

Once more on Good Friday, at 8 p.m., we will assemble for prayers, and we will dim the candles, one at a time, in the solemn observance of Tenebrae, a Latin word meaning “shadows.”

On Holy Saturday morning, at 9 a.m., we will assemble here for a brief time for the prayers of Holy Saturday, the day that marks when Christ descends into Hell itself to open the gates wide and let everyone out. The prayers of the morning are brief, and I am especially inviting those of you who are preparing our sanctuary for the evening Vigil to participate in this short service.

Holy Saturday is the anvil upon which Easter rests. Without Jesus going to the dead to break the chains of Hell, the resurrection has little to do with us.

With Holy Saturday, Jesus takes us with him at the Resurrection. I hope you will join me for a few minutes Saturday morning in the chapel.

On Saturday evening, after sundown comes our first opportunity to celebrate the third day of Easter: The Resurrection. We assemble for the Great Vigil of Easter – the biggest, most splendid and opulent worship of the entire year.

We light a fire outside, and bring the light of the Paschal candle into the church. The Paschal Candle leads our procession, and there are no crucifixes carried on this night. We are done with the Cross. Inside the church, sitting in the dim light, we hear again the story of creation. And then with lights on, and bells ringing, we declare the Resurrection – we loudly declare Christ has Risen – and we experience again the joy of Easter and our first Eucharist of the Easter season.

Bring your bells and come join us.

On Easter Day morning we come here in the sunlight, our Lent completed and our new life in Christ begun once again.

And with grateful hearts we join in our prayer for The Great Vigil of Easter: “Stir up in your Church that Spirit … which is given to us in Baptism, that we, being renewed both in body and mind, may worship you in sincerity and truth.”

May each of you, wherever you are, have blessed and Holy Week, and a season of hope and renewal in the Easter that is to come.

-- James+