29th
March 2020
The
Fifth Sunday of Lent (Passiontide begins)
Pastoral Letter No. 5
Fr
Andrew writes:
On this fifth Sunday of
Lent the Church now moves to the ‘business end’ of Lent as we enter
Passiontide, which leads us to Holy Week (Palm Sunday is next Sunday 5th
April).
There will be more to say
and reflect on that is specific to Holy Week, but today I want to offer some
reflections on the last few days when first church worship was suspended and
then the churches closed altogether.
I feel very torn by the
closure of churches. On one hand it is absolutely right that as a society and
nation we should be doing everything to minimise the spread of the virus. On
the other hand I feel deeply uncomfortable about having to shut the church.
Yet, that is the situation we are in. There are three points I would like to
reflect on in relation to the closure of the church: all will be scattered; the
stripping of the altars; and Holy Saturday.
All
will be scattered Fr
Joe drew my attention to the prescience of this text from St John’s gospel:
‘Jesus
said: “The hour is coming, indeed it has come, when you will be scattered, each
one to his home, and you will leave me alone. Yet I am not alone because the
Father is with me. I have said this to you, so that in me you may have peace.
In the world you face persecution. But take courage; I have conquered the
world!”’ (John 16.32, 33)
These words come in the
passage of John in which Jesus is telling his disciples both about the
tribulations to come and cost of discipleship in general terms but also,
specifically, that at his glorification - his death on the cross - all will be
scattered and all will be thrown up in the air.
There is something of
that feel at the moment. We are all scattered, each to our own homes. Yet as
Christ is not alone because of the intimacy of his relationship with the
Father, so we are not alone because of union with him by baptism and faith.
Indeed the Holy Spirt continues to bind us together in love even if we are
scattered. Those verses invite us to take heart (the literal meaning of
courage) because these forces of evil, pestilence, fear and terror that stalk
the world have been overcome by the glorification of Jesus in his death and
resurrection.
The
Stripping of the Altars
One of the most poignant moments in all the Church’s liturgy is when the altars
of the church are stripped on Maundy Thursday. After the intimacy of the
washing of feet after Christ’s example, and commemoration of the Last Supper
and institution of the Eucharist, all is stripped away. At that moment all that
is left is the presence of Christ in the Blessed Sacrament (the consecrated
bread of the Eucharist). And then led by the Sacrament, we make our way in
procession to ‘watch and pray’ (as the disciples were asked to do – and failed
– in the Garden of Gethsemane). That is the founding Vigil of the Church: a
vigil being a time of watching and praying.
When the church remained
open but public worship was suspended (up until last Monday): the church had a
solemn and beautiful feel. People came in to pray - were totally sensible about
distancing - and there was a deeply hushed and reverent feel: it was a vigil
taking place. It reminded me of how a church feels on that night of Maundy
Thursday and then on into Good Friday until the liturgy.
At the Good Friday
Liturgy, after the Veneration of the Cross - when we bow before the sign of our
hope and salvation and kiss it - we receive the body and blood of the Crucified
One and then the Sacrament is consumed. This mirrors the moment of Christ’s
death, when nothing is left and all is desolate. The community disperses, just
as the disciples fled from the scene: as Jesus prophesied at the Last Supper,
‘I will strike the shepherd and the sheep of the flock will be scattered’ (Matthew
26.31). Liturgically we no longer have Christ present with us in the Blessed
Sacrament.
Holy
Saturday Holy
Saturday, the day after Good Friday, is one of the most unnoticed holy days of
the Church. On Holy Saturday no Eucharist is celebrated; the Sacrament is not
present. It is a day of absence. Sometimes referred to as Easter Eve or,
erroneously Easter Saturday (that’s the Saturday after Easter not before) it is
a day that usually sees lots of busy-ness of the quite reasonable preparation
of the church for Easter Day. Yet we miss something if we do not pause. Holy
Saturday echoes the seventh day of creation, the day on which God rested,
seeing all was good. It is the source of the practice of Sabbath, which our
Jewish brethren do far better than we.
Hoy Saturday is the day
that Christ’s lifeless body rested in the tomb. It is a day of absence,
stillness and calm.
I don’t believe it is too
far-fetched to say that at the moment we are in an enforced Sabbath, an
enforced and prolonged Holy Saturday. That is not to wish coronavirus upon
anyone, but as it is a reality that has closed our churches, driven to our
homes and made us isolated and cut off. In that reality how do we cope
spiritually? Perhaps meditation on Holy Saturday and what it means gives us a
key to reflecting on this time that we are in. Sabbath, solitude and silence
can be frightening and unsettling, but can be a gift of grace to us as well.
There is much to ponder on this and lots of wisdom from the great spiritual
writers.
We don’t sabbath enough
in our busy lives and world. Creation itself is receiving a sabbath as fewer
planes and cars pump toxins into the atmosphere, as fish swim in the clear
Venice canals, as the ozone layer begins to repair, as a tranquil silence
descends next to busy roads. What of your Sabbath, how can you be refreshed in
this time?
The Sabbath of Holy
Saturday gave way to the life and abundance of Easter Day, and don’t we yearn
for the Easter moment of release from our captivity. May that day soon come!
May God’s blessing rest
upon you and your homes at this time.
Fr Andrew