Opening Prayer
Give us this day
Give us this day
Our daily bread
Peace in our hearts
Calm in our heads
Give us this day
Whatever the struggle
Peace in our world
Whatever the trouble
Give us all faith
In each other
Martin Wroe, Julian of Norwich’s Teabag, Poems and prayers from morning to night, Wildgoose
John 1:5 ‘The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it’
As we approach Holy Week let’s spend this time in reverence – acknowledging the darkness coming, but enriched with hope for the rising of Christ from the dead
Readings
Probing the Darkness
DARKNESS- IS IT JUST THE EMPTY, FRUITLESS TIME between dusk and dawn? The place of ignorance where we have no signs by which to steer our course? The measure of our own lack of enlightenment, our profound need of God?
Do we see it more readily in others than in ourselves? Can we believe that God is also in the darkness with us, alongside us, perhaps especially in the times when we cannot see our own hand in front of our eyes? Can we recognize God as that unfailing presence that, usually, we can see only with the gift of hindsight?
But things grow in the darkness: seeds, bulbs, dreams, babies. Can we trust that if we dare to probe the darkness we may discover things about ourselves that we might prefer not to know, but need to learn? Can we believe that the seeds of all we can become are already gestating in the darkness we would gladly deny? In the East, a new dawn waits just below the horizon.
Silf, Margaret. Compass Points: Meeting God Every Day at Every Turn (pp. 55-56). Loyola Press.
Holy Week
Before we enter our silence I would like to recall my first ever Holy Week in 2019 – which had an incredible impact on me. I will read a few parts of what I wrote at the time.
Up to now Easter has been about weighing up my desire for copious amounts of Easter eggs versus how much weight gain this would involve… Monday’s Stations of the Cross was not a good start for me. The reason? I was focussing on me instead of Christ. Walking around the church and standing at each Station was hard for me with my back and I had to sit down quite a bit. I was totally embroiled with my embarrassment of having to sit down instead of focusing on what I should have – Christ’s journey towards Crucifixion. It was all about ‘me’ instead of being all about ‘Him’.
This ‘all about me’ sentiment stayed with me until Thursday’s Midnight Vigil and the Altar of Repose. Something then changed inside of me. As I sat in silence I was totally immersed in the vision of the Altar of Repose – the beauty, the sadness, the dark, the light, the stillness, the movement… The ‘facts’ then changed to ‘feelings.’ Holy Week and the Crucifixion truly entered my heart.
Then we came to Easter Sunday – oh what joy – He is Risen! An early 6am start with bonfire and lighting of the Paschal Candle. Then there was the point in the service that it was proclaimed that Christ is Risen – and sunlight streamed into the Church! My mood changed from sadness, silence and contemplation to one of joyous celebration. That joy has stayed ever since.
I entered Holy Week with Jesus living in books and stories. I ended Holy Week with Jesus living in my heart and a feeling of deep joy.
Karen G
Introduction to Silence 30 minutes – followed by sharing
Iona Liturgy
We tell your story
We follow in your footsteps
LEAD US INTO HOLY WEEK
We walk towards the city
We wait in the garden
LEAD US ONTO HOLY GROUND
We journey towards death
We hope for resurrection
LEAD US INTO HOLY JOY
R Burgess C Polhill, Eggs and Ashes – Pract & liturgical res. for Lent & Holy Week, Wildgoose
Blessing
So may we know
the hope
that is not just
for someday
but for this day–
here, now,
in this moment
that opens to us:
hope not made
of wishes
but of substance,
hope made of sinew
and muscle
and bone,
hope that has breath
and a beating heart,
hope that will not
keep quiet
and be polite,
hope that knows
how to holler
when it is called for,
hope that knows
how to sing
when there seems
little cause,
hope that raises us
from the dead–
not someday
but this day,
every day,
again and
again and
again.
Jan Richardson, The Cure for Sorrow: A Book of Blessings for Times of Grief
