Maundy Thursday April 13th

Hidden away in the Armenian Quarter of the Old City of Jerusalem, somewhere down Ararat Road, is the Syrian Orthodox Cathedral of St Mark- and there, in the crypt of this quiet and unvisited church far from the tourist trail is the chapel of the upper room - one of three sites in Jerusalem claiming to be the place where Jesus celebrated his last Passover supper with his disciples, where he washed his disciples feet. But this Syrian upper room has little to commend itself. It is plain and rather run-down, the only decoration being a tacky bath towel of Jesus hung behind the altar. 

But there it stands - like so many of the religious sites of Jerusalem, with a great cathedral built on top of it, set in the middle of a noisy city full of conflict, tension, traffic jams, commerce, street markets, fancy restaurants, police officers, soldiers, criminals, terrorists and religious fanatics. - hidden away, oblivious to all around, as are the other great sites. The Garden of Gethsemane and the Mount of Olives to the East, even the Church of the Holy Sepulchre itself - set in the heart of the Christian Quarter, surrounded by noise and hatred, unmoved, unaffected by all that goes on around. Tourists with cameras flashing, noisy irreverent guides, soldiers and police officers with their guns thrown across their soldiers, - they all pour in and queue up in hundreds to see the tomb of Jesus, and the various bishops and archbishops, clergy and servers of the Armenian, Ethiopian, Greek, Syrian, Coptic and Latin churches just get on with their daily business of praying the offices, singing the liturgies, lighting candles and using incense, day in and day out - as if the noisy tourists inside or the noisy troubles outside were just not there. 

It’s a long way away from us - you might think - a Georgian church of the protestant enlightenment - but perhaps for all that, it’s closer than you might think. For noise and bustle here too. - a lot of rehearsals for the choir, decorating for the flower arrangers, services to be planned and organised, books to be handed out, service sheets to be printed - and the usual round of visitors wanting to see the stained glass window of William Blake or the tomb of Benedict Arnold. 

And if I’m being just a bit too focussed on our church life, then all of this is as nothing when compared to the business of our lives beyond the church. The competitive workplace pushing on with deadlines. The daily work of keeping a house and home running smoothly and cleanly, work keeping family and friends happy and fulfilled, time to find to spend with friends - old and new, busy lives, busy diaries, great expectations and too little time for any of it - racial conflicts in our cities, religious and community conflicts in our isles, ethnic conflicts on our continent. Wars and rumours of wars around the world. All in all this Maundy Thursday, like every Maundy Thursday is busy, hectic, lively. Hard to find a place of still and quiet, hard simply to sit with the terrifying story of these three days, hard to leave the business of life and church for just a moment and find that much sought after serenity and peace. 

If only we could get back to Galilee, we might think - O Sabbath rest by Galilee, O calm of hills above....And of course the calm lapping of the lakeland waters is evocative of peace and tranquillity. But even the magical Sea of Galilee was not always like that. Early starts, nets to haul, nets to repair, the noise of fishermen shouting at each other, the noise of markets and traders. The busy street life of villages and roman cities. We would love to think of Galilee as being far from the business of our lives - and no doubt deadlines were different before rail, car and air travel, but for all our differences, the calm, peace and serenity we seek, have never easily been found - even by Jesus. That first Maundy Thursday was even busier and certainly more fraught than ours tonight will be, the planning of dinner for friends, religious obligations, pressures with preaching, strapped for cash, and then the horrors of tonight’s story: betrayal by friends, spiritual crisis, arrest, interrogation, tiredness, loneliness. Maundy Thursday - that first Maundy Thursday - is not peaceful and calm, quietly other worldly and spiritual, it is busy, full, noisy, real - anguish and agony in the Garden.

And yet in the middle of all this there are moments of calm and quiet, peaceful serenity for Jesus and his followers. A still moment of intimacy when Jesus washes feet, a mysteriously special moment when Jesus gives bread and wine - a real expression of his body broken and his blood shed. The calm of the Garden and the intimacy of prayer - the glance from Jesus to Peter after the betrayal, the waiting in the dark of the prison cell - moments of stillness in an otherwise busy night. Like the Syrian Orthodox Cathedral standing silently amidst the suffering of Armenians, Palestinians and others too. 

And tonight we will rush home to our families and friends, some will turn on the news and hear of war and killing, others will put some food in the microwave and open a bottle of wine, all around us people will be partying and enjoying the school holidays, and here in this church, the Chapel will grow warm and quiet - a holy place in the midst of great activity. A place where slowly and quietly people will trickle in and out - to spend half an hour with God - an unusual and extraordinary half an hour on an unusual and extraordinary night - to find stillness and pray. To sit with Jesus as he sits with us. To watch and wait and pray - a snatched moment of calm in a busy lives. 

But of course the bad news is that once you get here, once you creep into the atmospherically candlelit chapel and into the presence of God, it will then not be easy - praying doesn’t just come naturally. With Peter, James and John it is always easier to fall asleep than to stay awake with Jesus and pray, it is in fact easier to avoid the Garden altogether as most of the disciples on that first Maundy Thursday seem to have done, it’s always much easier to find more business to occupy our lives, than find peace and calm, and then, having found it, to know what to do with it. Far harder to pray - so hard in fact, that sweat dropped from Jesus’s forehead like drops of blood!

So what can we do? How can we spend our twenty minutes, our half-an-hour, our hour in silent watchful prayer with God? Let me give you a few tips. First tell him what is on your mind - bring to Jesus your thoughts, your worries, your concerns, your fears and pains and sorrows, your doubts, your hopes. Tell him the whole lot. Don’t protect Jesus from those things you don’t want him to hear. Tell him everything - weep, weep for yourself, your friends, your neighbours, your world and for your children, and let Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane weep with you and for you. Hide nothing - tell him you are frightened of growing old, or of growing ill, or of being useless or a burden, tell him you are worried about children or friends or parents, tell him you have lost your way and no longer even know what you believe, tell him you are angry or jealous or confused. Hide nothing, leave nothing out, open yourself to him this night and let your sorrow mingle with his. Betrayed and betraying, - partners in tears. 

Then listen - not to imaginary words Jesus might be speaking, but listen first of all to the calm around you. The creaking of rafters, the tick of the clock, the burst of hot air from the heating, the spluttering of candles, the noise of cars on the road, planes and helicopters, the noise of police sirens and ambulances as life carries on busily around us - listen to the noises of the night, and hold the stillness of the chapel with the noise of the outside world. Then become yourself a part of that stillness inside the chapel - leave the outside noises where they are - outside, and in your imagination think of yourself sitting still and calm inside this still and calm chapel - do not move, do not twitch. Think of your feet, - imagine them toe by toe, sole, heel, ankle, think how Jesus washed his disciples feet and how he now holds yours. Think of your hands -long fingers and short thumbs, hands which work, hands which wash, hands which hold and touch, - hands which kick and crush, which strike and destroy, - and think of the sacrament of the Lord’s Body placed into those hands - without question, without judgement - beloved hands of the people of God. Think of your senses - your eyes which see beauty and glory as well as sin, sorrow and pain, think of your ears which hear laughter and song as well as screams and crying, think of smell, touch taste - think of yourself - all of you, all you have said and brought to Jesus, sitting, kneeling, standing in the stillness of this Chapel. 

Now - and only now when all this is done, think of Jesus. Not some distant historical figure, far away in a Middle Eastern Garden, but here in this Lady Chapel - listening to you, hearing your heartfelt confession, knowing every detail of it - more even than you know or understand yourself. Think of him holding you, touching you, sharing his courage with you. Allow him to leave the beauty of the silver vessel mounted on the altar, and in your minds eye let him sit next to you. See him there, know him there, feel him there - your saviour and Lord, your friend, your priest. And now wait - sit with him and wait. Think of nothing - neither your own story, nor his, just sit side by side, two good friends together, who so know and understand each other that nothing need be said, - and wait. And wait and then take out your bible or a hymn book, or prayer book and read, a psalm, a parable, a story, a few favourite verses. And then, when the time is right, get up and go home, go back into the business of life, having caught just a few moments of peace - and know that as you rise from your seat and leave the Chapel, - our Garden of Gethsemane, that Jesus will not return to the altar. Know that he will go out with you.

Paul Kennington





Good Friday April 14th 1pm

Who killed Jesus? I, said Judas with my betrayer’s kiss for a price of thirty silver pieces – I killed your Jesus? I said the high priest, with my fear of losing control, and all my religious expediency, I killed your Jesus. I, said the people, with my cry of “Crucify” with my love of bloody spectacle, I killed your Jesus. I said Herod, with my selfish indifference and my little games, I killed your Jesus. I said Pilate, with my stony heart, my political necessity, I killed your Jesus. I said the Roman soldier, with my hammer and nail, just obeying orders, I killed your Jesus.

I, said Jesus – I walked into it myself, I knew what I was doing, even Judas did what I asked of him, I killed myself….. 
I said God, I sent him to a certain death from the day he was born, it was all my plan – I am God after all – I killed Jesus.

Judas, the high priest, the people, the King, the Governor, the soldier, God .. … who killed Jesus?

The answer is that they all did. We all did. We all do. With our angry betrayals, our fear of others, our crowd mentality, our games and hardness of heart – we all nail Jesus to the cross. Which one of us is sufficiently without sin to cast the first stone.

And so the first part of this meditation is to see that on Good Friday we must take our stand with Judas, priests, crowds, governors and soldiers and that we want Jesus dead. We come to church with sin in our hearts, in our minds, in our bodies and in our souls. Each one of us carries a combination of Judas’s defiance and greed, the high priest’s pride and fear, the crowds salivating pleasure in other people’s degradation, Herod’s tantalising games we play with people’s lives, Pilate’s ruthless ambition trampling over people, and the soldier’s hard hammering blows. 

Each one of us lets people down who trusted us, each one of us lusts after money and possessions, each one of us struggles to holds onto our position, our looks, our youth, our health. Each one of us is entertained by other people’s misfortune, or slavery, or we turn a blind eye and continue in our little lives as if they have nothing to do with us. Each one of us pushes what we want more than what others’ want, and each one of us just get on with our everyday lives – keeping the injustices and prejudices and poverty and hunger and warfare of a world, because, well, what else can we do .?

Each one of us is complicit in the sin of the human race – and each one of us is individually sinful – each one of us could have nailed Jesus to the cross and cried “crucify”, each one of us does nail Jesus to the cross and cry crucify.


But what would have happened if Judas had refused the money and kissed Jesus out of love?
What would have happened if the high priest had listened to Jesus’s teaching and decided to follow a new way?
What would have happened if the crowd had demanded that both Jesus and Barabbas were released and that justice was done?
What would have happened if Herod had been truly concerned about the plight of a fellow human being?
What would have happened if Pilate had cared more about doing what was right rather than keeping order and an easy life?
What would have happened if the soldier had refused to kill an innocent man?

What would have happened if there were no evil in the world, and if people did not sin? What would happen if we did not sin?
We call what would happen the Kingdom of God – we have seen a glimpse of it – but we still do not believe it can really happen or accept it as a possibility …. And so the nails must still go in, the Son of Man must still be crucified …. If they had not done it then, then we must do it now – we are still not ready for any other way.


Wilt thou forgive that sin, where I begun,
which is my sin, though it were done before?
Wilt thou forgive those sins through which I run,
and do run still, though still I do deplore?
When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
for I have more.

Wilt thou forgive that sin, by which I won
others to sin, and made my sin their door?
Wilt thou forgive that sin which I did shun
a year or two, but wallowed in a score?
When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
for I have more.

I have a sin of fear that when I've spun
my last thread, I shall perish on the shore;
swear by thyself, that at my death thy Son
shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore.
And having done that, thou hast done,
I have no more.

Sermon - Paul Kennington
Poem - John Donne


The F word - forgiveness. How hard it is to forgive people. 

In my last parish Paul and Diana Lamplugh lived with forgiveness. Their daughter Suzy who had sung in the church choir when Paul was Churchwarden went missing in 1986 – she was an estate agent doing a routine job of showing a client around a property in Fulham. Her story hit the national and international press. Her body has never been found and she is now legally declared dead and presumed to have been murdered. The man who they think murdered her has never admitted to the charge, even though he is already in prison serving a number of life sentences. How did Paul and Diana experience forgiveness for a man who murdered their daughter and yet wouldn’t own up to it?

In my last parish another woman – I shall call her Mary – but that wasn’t her real name. was sent to a girls boarding school run by nuns in Ireland. She had been abandoned by her teenage mother and had no other family apart from the sisters at the convent. When I first met her it had taken her all her courage to walk into a church again. I was the first priest she had ever been able to talk to. Her experience of religion was of nuns who beat her and priests who abused her. What does forgiveness mean in this situation – when there is no turning the clock back and when many of the people involved are now dead?

And in today’s story a man on a cross – betrayed by his friends, tortured by his own people, beaten by soldiers, nailed to a cross to die – what does it mean for him to cry out “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do?”

The F-word is for many people the most difficult, most challenging, most shocking of all the F words in the English language, if we take it seriously. 

For forgiveness is never lightly bought. It is always paid for at a very great price. Forgiveness is never simply a “forgive and forget” as if simply saying the words could ever be enough. There is something about forgiveness which involves naming the crime, accepting the blame, understanding what has happened and why, and moving into a future with sorrow, regret and a commitment not to do it again. 

One of the hardest thing for Paul and Diana Lamplugh was not knowing what had happened to their daughter, and having no regret, no acknowledgement, no commitment from the murderer. And yet they learned to forgive in anticipation – as it were, - knowing that the murderer was on a journey and one day, in this life or the next, he would understand. Knowing that only in forgiveness could they set their own hearts free. 

And Mary, for that is what I called her, learnt too slowly to let go of the past. To name what was done to her, to understand some of it – although not all of it by a long way – and like Paul and Diana to learn how to begin to set herself free by forgiveness in anticipation.

And what of Jesus? What do we see there of forgiveness? Well I believe we see a God who also needs to set himself free, a God who needs to forgive at whatever the price. And we see a people, a human race, we see ourselves ignorant of the great cost. Like the High Priest and Herod, we see a people, we see ourselves who are not even aware of the sin, never mind aware of the forgiveness being offered. Like the soldier, we see ourselves making lame excuses to make our sin smaller – unaware of the cost of the forgiveness being offered us. And we see Judas, repentant, understanding – but in despair – unable to accept the great weight of forgiveness. 

And what of God? We see a God who takes the worst sin that evil can invent, the worst sin that human beings could ever do – for what can be more sinful than to torture and murder the Son of God – the divine creator of life – the Word who was with God, and who is God? And when human beings have committed the worst of all possible sins imaginable – Deicide – then he forgives. 

And having done that, the very power of sin itself is conquered – for God has proved that no sin is beyond the forgiveness of God. And so from the life-giving cross, the glory of the Son, we are offered forgiveness for our sins, what ever they are. But do we accept it, do we name the crime, accept the blame, understand what has happened and why, do we move into a future with sorrow, regret and a commitment not to sin again, or are we forgiven in anticipation only?


Hear me, O God!
A broken heart Is my best part.
Use still thy rod,
That I may prove Therein thy Love.

If thou hadst not Been stern to me,
But left me free,
I had forgot Myself and thee.

For sin's so sweet,
As minds ill-bent Rarely repent,
Until they meet Their punishment.

Who more can crave Than thou hast done?
That gav'st a Son, To free a slave,
First made of nought;
With all since bought.

Sin, Death, and Hell
His glorious name Quite overcame,
Yet I rebel
And slight the same.

But I'll come in
Before my loss Me farther toss,
As sure to win
Under His cross.

Sermon - Paul Kennington
Poem - Ben Jonson

Death comes to us all. Rich or poor, the simplest mind or the greatest brain – in birth and in death we are as one – frail, weak, in the power of the forces of nature. 
And death, the fear of being nothing at all, and dying, the fear of losing everything, is probably the greatest human fear of all – in the face of our inevitable death, what is the meaning of life?

And how can God help us? What can God know of death? What can God – Holy, Strong and Immortal God, know of the frailty and brevity of life – What can God know of fear, of pain, of death? Of our fear, of our pain, of our death?

What use are all God’s promises of covenant and blessing if they are for this life only, if sheol, the place of the dead is a place of nothingness. What good would life have been to us …

But of course God does know death – as we face death so we know that God himself faced death. As we suffer so we know that God himself suffered. As we are let down and deceived by our friends, so we know that God himself was betrayed by his friends. As we doubt even the goodness of God, so we know that even God himself cried “My God, My God, why have you deserted me”. Our God, the Christian God – the incarnate God, Jesus – the Word of God made flesh – has known the very depths of human depravity – the immortal one has known what it is to die …. Even in death God is with us, Emmanuel. 
And so death – the final enemy is conquered. There is no need for us to fear death any more, for death has lost it’s sting, “where O for even in the throes of death itself - God, Emmanuel, is with us. 

And so in this perhaps we can begin to see that the price of Adam’s sin can only ever be the blood of the Son of God. No mere human being could ever have satisfied our need for God truly to understand, to know and feel our pain. If God is to know what we go through, then God had to go through what we go through, there is no other way. 

And death – God’s once kindly remedy at the Garden of Eden for original sin – for who in their right mind would really want to live for ever in this wicked world – even death is itself transformed into a new creation, a new birth, a new paradise, a new communion with God – walking once more with God in the Garden of Eden. Death the enemy has become death the friend. Today is indeed a Good Friday!





DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee 
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so, 
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow, 
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me. 
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee, 5
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow, 
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe, 
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie. 
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men, 
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell, 10
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well, 
And better than thy stroake; why swell'st thou then; 
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally, 
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die. 

Sermon - Paul Kennington
Poem - John Donne


Good Friday April 14th 2pm


This kindness will I show.
Go with me to a notary, seal me there
Your single bond; and, in a merry sport,
If you repay me not on such a day,
In such a place, such sum or sums as are
Express'd in the condition, let the forfeit
Be nominated for an equal pound
Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken
In what part of your body pleaseth me.

I trust that, in spite of my laboured English, you will have recognised the play. These lines are from The Merchant of Venice. It’s a weird story, a very dark comedy full of religious symbolism and probably a fair deal of anti-Semitism too, although this is contested. It tells of how Bassanio wants to travel to woo the beautiful and wealthy Portia. Thus he approaches his friend Antonio, a merchant, for 3000 ducats needed to subsidize his travelling expenditures for three months. As all of Antonio's ships and merchandise are tied at sea, Antonio approaches the Jewish moneylender Shylock for a loan. But hateful of Antonio, Shylock proposes a malicious condition. If Antonio is unable to repay the loan at the specified date, Shylock will be free to take a pound of Antonio's flesh from where ever he pleases. Although Bassanio does not want Antonio to accept such a condition for his sake, Antonio, surprised by what he sees as the moneylender's jesting generosity, signs the agreement. 

Antonio is a bit Christ-like in the play, he is the only unmarried one, he agrees to bail his friend Antonio whom he deeply loves at the risk of his own life… While all the other characters are rather devious, he alone is perfectly upright. Bassanio is a prodigal who does no work except to capitalise on his looks and live off other people, and who ends up with Portia, who, at the end, realises that she was only ever wanted for her money; and Jessica is an ungrateful daughter who steals her father Shylock's possessions and runs away to marry Lorenzo, a proselytizing hypocrite. Antonio is the one who is supposed to die in their stead, by having a pound of flesh cut from his side, nearest his heart… hint hint, nudge nudge… 

but Shakespeare is much subtler than that, because Shylock the Jew is the only other one who does not deceive, trick, lie, kill, steal, or do anything mischievous. The promise of a pound of flesh upon default of the loan was something Antonio freely agreed to. Shylock lives by the Law that lay down: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth… and a pound of flesh for a promise broken. Someone has to die because the covenant has been broken and the wages of sin are death. 

Now I am telling you this because Christian theology is full of similar theories: Jesus died to ransom us. Jesus died for us. Jesus died for our sins, because we had broken God’s Law and disobeyed his commandments. They are not altogether untrue, but let us ask ourselves? Is God really like Shylock, requiring a pound of flesh for promises broken? 

I would like us to feel a bit uncomfortable this afternoon, for this day can be an occasion of smugness for Christians: others crucified him so that we might be saved. On my way back from the chrism mass at the cathedral, I saw a dummy perched over the porch of Westminster abbey with a judgemental banner which read: “Jesus, crucified by the state, ignored by the Church.” It’s always someone else’s fault. Notwithstanding the fact that there was no Church back then and that the Romans cared little about heretics… The Jews of the time handed him over so that he might die for us… Indeed for centuries there were pogroms on this day as Christians, having heard the account of our Lord’s Passion became so heated that they went on the rampage, killing the descendants of his alleged murderers. But this is way too simple a reading, so simple in fact that it is plain wrong. As Antonio remarks in the play:



Mark you this, Bassanio,
The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.
… A goodly apple rotten at the heart:
O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!

The sad and uncomfortable truth is that Jesus did not so much die for us as because of us, and not so much in our stead as at our hands. For every Christian community around the world, this should be the most sombre of days because we contemplate the astonishing fact that the Son of God came to love and redeem a world that crucified him… a whole world, not just a damned few. For I ask, are we not all like Judas, the Jewish high court and the Romans? 

Have we not all for thirty pieces of silver sold the Light of the World? Hell, I do it every day. Greed is my guide, not love of poverty. I am not like the one who became poor so that we might become rich… more like those who become rich so that others become poor. And remember, what we do to the least of those who are his brothers and sisters, we do to him. Every day too I silence the Word of God and do not let him make any reply, like the High Priest. I do not pray or listen to him to do his will. Worse even, I know perfectly well what his will is and do the opposite. And look at these hands! With these hands, I tell you, I have buffeted the one whose hands made me more than once. Whenever these hands have failed to help anyone who has been made in the image of God, I have slapped God in the face. And look at your hands! have you not done the same? Can you stand up and throw the first stone at your curate? For who are you to judge… that is another sin, isn’t it. We do it all the time. Although we were told not to judge that we be not judged, we do, we most certainly do, and sit in judgement over the judge of the world, much like Caiaphas and Hannah. Paul wrote: “In passing judgement on another, you condemn yourself, because you, the judge, are doing the very same things. You say: ‘We know that God’s judgement on those who do such things is in accordance with truth. But do you imagine, whoever you are, that when you judge those who do such things you will escape judgement? Or do you despise the riches of his kindness and forbearance? Do you not realise that God’s kindness is meant to lead you to repentance?’

Today all things created suffered in sympathy with their creator, the sun was darkened as if confounded with terror at the sight of the creator of the world being put to death by his creatures, and the foundations of the earth were shaken. Therefore I ask, do we not destroy God’s precious creation? If we really believed that every created thing is to be transfigured, we should change our shopping habits a wee bit. But we do not. Not enough. We sell, betray, silence, judge, hit and destroy. 

I tell you, brothers and sisters –for my siblings you truly are when it comes to these things—every day we crucify Jesus. Last Sunday we sang: “Hosanna to the Son of David, blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.” We bowed to our King, we crowned him with praise… but every single day that he makes, we plait for him a crown of thorns. And we have the cheek of saying and believing that he died for us, whereas, let me tell you, all of us here today, we are not the saved, but the damned. We fail to see the power of the Cross because we believe blindly that Jesus died to cleanse us from our sins and we fail to see that we also put him to death, not just a chosen wicked few. The Cross does not work by magic. It did not work any change in God. God is not like Shylock, requiring his pound of flesh to be placated, God was on the Cross, forgiving us, dying for us and because of us. We are forgiven because on the very cross that we made for him, he forgave us. He loved us stubbornly, even unto death. This is something all the apostles knew, who had deserted him, denied him and betrayed him. This is something Peter knew, and he wept bitterly. This is something Judas knew, who hung himself. This is something Paul knew, who persecuted the body of Christ before he was thrown off his horse. They all knew it as each and every one of them, when Jesus told them he was to be betrayed answered: “Is it I, Lord?” But they also took a good look at the cross. This is why their lives changed, for they saw that Jesus loved them come what may, stubbornly, indefectibly, maddeningly and, why not, I’ll say it: faithfully like a dog, ever returning to the ones who beat and abandoned him. Therein resides the power of the Cross and the secret of our forgiveness. If we fail to see this, if we see ourselves on the side of the justified ones, we will be forever damned. On the cross, the judgement of this world is revealed, and its sentence is extraordinary: even there, on the cross, we are not judged, we are not condemned but forgiven. But let us make no mistake, we are not sitting on the right side of the bar. 

In the words of St Paul again

“Do you not realise that God’s kindness is meant to lead you to repentance? Or do you despise the riches of his kindness and forbearance?” (Romans 2.1) Yes indeed, how can we hope for mercy, rendering none?

Lorenzo Fernandez-Vicente



Easter Vigil Holy Saturday April 15th 


Christ is risen 
He is risen indeed

Christ is risen 
He is risen indeed

Christ is risen 
He is risen indeed

Everyone should know by now that I think the Easter Vigil is the most important service of the whole year. And thank you for responding to my pleas, articles, sermons, invitations and general begging. It means a lot to me that we do this service well, and I know it might sound really strange and you’re allowed to say that you will never understand the clergy but your presence here tonight is the best Easter present you could give me, and on this night I really do miss personally those who can’t or won’t be with us.

But they’re right too of course - Most members of the Church of England have never even heard of the Easter Vigil never mind grown to love it as the service which says what it is to be a Christian. And if they have, they say it’s too catholic and too soon, so let me say a couple of things in response. 


First of all is it too Catholic? Well the wonderful this is that this service of fire, candle, readings and baptism vows is so old that it was around before the Catholic church in Rome was even thought of - at least the catholic church in the sense most people mean it. This service was already the main Christian service in most churches around the known world by as early as 375 AD - which is pretty amazing. There were divisions in the church even then with some Christians keeping Easter on whichever weekday happened to fall on the Jewish 14 Nisan instead of the Sunday, but this service which we are doing tonight goes back before the great split between the Armenians and Copts and the Greeks and Latin in 451, not to mention the later splits of East and West in 1054 and Reformed and Catholic in 1534. This more than anything else we do is archetypally a Christian rather than a denominational service. 

Christians saved up for it for weeks, they looked forward to it, they prepared for it and they celebrated it. The whole season of Lent was developed to prepare for this service. You could argue that the whole liturgical year was developed around this service. It’s not too Catholic, if it’s anything, it’s just too Christian!
And next years will be on Saturday 7th April at 8pm - you could put it in your diary now!

And is it too early? How can 8 o clock on Saturday night be Easter Day - If Jesus died on Good Friday, how is this the third day? People want to get up tomorrow morning when the sun is shining and there are all the joys of spring and shout “He is risen”

Well I can understand the feeling but I really do think that both the maths and the theology is wrong.
Maths first. The first Christians were Jewish - they kept a Jewish calendar and they kept a Jewish way of counting the days. This went on for centuries. Still for the Jews today, and still for Christian churches throughout the world the day begins and ends at sunset. It’s a fairly late development to count days from midnight to midnight. So what day is it now? Well it’s Sunday of course! 

Let me explain further.
If you have ever been to Israel - or Golders Green for that matter - you will know that the Jewish Sabbath - which we learnt at school to be Saturday - begins on Friday. As soon as the sun has begun to set and dusk starts then the Sabbath begins - Friday night prayers with the lighting of the candles and the blessings - are actually the first prayers of Saturday - the Sabbath. And Saturday - the Sabbath will go on only as long as there is light. So that when dusk falls again on Saturday evening, then the Sabbath is over, people open their shops, go out on the town and begin the working week. 

What this means - if you can get your head around it - is that when we were in church on what we call Maundy Thursday, commemorating the Last Supper - we were really marking the beginning of Good Friday - Day 1 - - the day before the Jewish Sabbath - When we came back to church on Good Friday to witness the crucifixion at 3pm, we were at the very end of the day - which is why in the story there was such a rush in the middle of the afternoon to get Jesus and the other criminals down off the cross before dusk fell and before the sabbath - which that year was also passover - began. 

Those of us who attended a service of darkness on what we call Friday night, were actually keeping the first service of Saturday - the Jewish Sabbath. Day two. 

And now, as dusk falls, so the Sabbath Saturday - Day two - comes to an end, and we begin day three - Easter Sunday - It might sound strange to secular ears but to religious ears it has always been so, and there really is nothing strange about it. 


And now the theology...

It’s all very well and good wanting to feel new life and all the joys of spring with the risen sun - and I know lots of churches like to do this service so that it coincides with the rising sun at about 4am. But in many ways I believe that misses the point. The point is that we celebrate in darkness. Lorenzo preached a powerful sermon on Good Friday about sin - it was hard and he told us in no uncertain terms, and quite rightly too, that we should not be smug about our faith - it is our sin, our constant selfish, petty, violent, sin which nails Jesus to the cross. Easter - the resurrection - doesn’t just pop up with the sunlight on Sunday morning and say “everything’s all right now”, it wrestles long and hard with the darkness - as Christians we still have to live in the darkness - and in the middle of this darkness the light of Christ, which we share and carry, shines out. The Jews didn’t celebrate their passover meal for breakfast and neither did the Christians - the Passover, the Christian Passover, is a feast of the night. When the holy women arrived at the tomb early in the morning on the first day of the week, it was all over - the tomb was empty, Easter had already happened. In much the same way as it will be for those who come tomorrow morning - Christ will already have risen, the church will already have celebrated, the Paschal Candle will already be in place.

And a snippet more theology..
Way back in the book of Genesis, God made the world in 6 days and then he rested on the Sabbath day and made it holy. The story of Adam and Eve tells us of how human beings sin, and how the world is not as it should be. Jesus was crucified on the Friday - the following day, the Sabbath, God did not rest - yesterday - Good Friday Sundown, to Holy Saturday Sundown, is the seventh day of creation, the completion of the week, the completion of creation. As we enter the first day of the week - for Sunday has now begun - so we enter the first day of the new creation. The world can never be the same again.
Alleluia,

Christ is risen 
He is risen indeed

Christ is risen 
He is risen indeed

Christ is risen 
He is risen indeed