The joy of being able to celebrate Easter in church this year was palpable.  It felt all the more powerful because of our restrictions on Easter services in 2020.  It seemed as if we had experienced a whole year of Lenten deprivation, and in many ways we had!  This year at St Mary’s, we were able to offer most of the services which would take us through Holy Week – some were online and others took place in church.  But it was so special to be able to attend Compline and Address on Monday to Wednesday evenings, to hear our bishops in Christchurch Cathedral in Oxford lead us in the yearly renewal of ministerial vows on the morning of Maundy Thursday, and to attend our own service of foot washing and Last Supper, followed by the traditional stripping of the altars in St Mary’s in darkness at the end of the evening. 

On Good Friday I was privileged to take part in a new experience for me – we held the evening service of Tenebrae (Latin for ‘darkness’), and it was an extraordinarily moving occasion.  As we sat in darkness around the east end of the church, we listened to Bible readings which recounted the desolation of Jesus as he was crucified and abandoned by all but a few female followers who remained around his cross.  We heard powerful poems written by 20^th century writers who reflected on his abandonment and death.  We listened to atmospheric music which took us to the very heart of the darkness, and tugged at our inner feelings in that way which music inexplicably can.  But as I sat there in the darkness, watching the candlelight being extinguished, candle by candle, there still remained a still small voice of hope within me.  Perhaps this was aided by lifting my eyes to the bright circular dome of St Mary’s, where the gold and blue of heaven seems to meet the solidity of earth in architectural design, and that distant glimpse of heaven helped me through the darkness of the Tenebrae gloom.

Returning to church on Easter Day was an experience of joyous sunshine and renewal.  We viewed the freshly-placed Easter garden under the central altar, and appreciated the bright flowers beside the empty tomb.  We had to forego the pleasure of raising our voices in joyful praise – there was certainly no singing permitted, although the organ resounded jubilantly.  But Covid-restrictions couldn’t dampen the sense of new life and promise of better things to come.  The pain of the last year is still with us, but we lift our eyes to the Easter resurrection because we are people of hope.

“We do not pretend that life is all beauty.  We are aware of darkness and sin, of poverty and pain.  But we know Jesus has conquered sin and passed through his own pain to the glory of the Resurrection.  And we live in the light of his Paschal Mystery – the mystery of his Death and Resurrection.  ‘We are an Easter people and Alleluia is our song’.” 

These are the memorable words of Pope John Paul II on his visit to Australia in November 1986, (including the quotation on the Easter Alleluia from St Augustine of Hippo). This year more than ever we acknowledge the poverty and pain of our world, but if our faith means anything to us, this will lead us into the future with hope and trust that we may discover new life as an Easter people.

Sarah Bourne, Chaplain for the Arts – 7^th April 2021            sarahbourne@banburystmary.org.uk