Easter Awakening

Sunday Service, 20 April 2025

Led by Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall

Musical Prelude: This is the Day: Easter Gradual (performed by our Quartet of Singers and Andrew Robinson)  

Opening Words: ‘Jesus is Resurrected’ by Kimberley Debus (adapted)

Jesus is resurrected—

because his message of love, justice, healing,

and liberation transcends time and space.

Jesus is resurrected—

because in his story we hear our own stories

of suffering and struggle and sorrow.

Jesus is resurrected—

because we need to be called back to love our neighbour as ourselves,

called back to see the inherent worth and dignity of every person,

called back to fight for justice, called back to hope for a better life.

Jesus is resurrected—

not because he is The Messiah,

The One and Only Saviour of all Humankind—

but because in his time, and our time, and all time, we need hope.

Jesus is resurrected— as we strive to live out his vision— and hope is eternal. (pause)

Words of Welcome and Introduction: 

These words from Kimberley Debus welcome all who have gathered this morning for our Sunday service. Welcome to those who have gathered in-person at Essex Church, to all who are joining us via Zoom, and anyone watching or listening at a later date via YouTube or the podcast.  For anyone who doesn’t know me, I’m Jane Blackall, and I’m minister with Kensington Unitarians.

Today’s service is titled ‘Easter Awakening’; through readings, reflections, music and hymns, we will move through the Easter story, journeying from Good Friday, through Holy Saturday, to Easter Day. As ever, in a Unitarian congregation, we know that each one of us will have our own particular relationship to the Easter story and to our Christian heritage more broadly – maybe it’s something that’s very meaningful to us – maybe it’s something we’re carrying a bit of baggage about. Wherever you may be on that continuum I encourage you to come with an open heart, and encounter the story anew, as we approach it through this ‘awakening’ lens. In the words of the Unitarian Universalist Kathleen McTigue: ‘We are a troubled tribe, we human beings. The unfolding story of our time on earth is clouded with pain and cruelty, with missed opportunities, unthinkable heedlessness, and indifference. It is also marked by the bright notes of decency, kindness, freedom, and courage. Easter proclaims that we each have a part to play in how the story unfolds, if we are willing to wake up.’

Chalice Lighting: ‘For Easter’ by Alex Holt (adapted)

Let’s light our chalice flame now, as we do each week. It’s a moment for us to stop and take a breath, settle ourselves down, put aside any preoccupations we came in carrying. This simple ritual connects us in solidarity with Unitarians and Unitarian Universalists the world over, and reminds us of the proud and historic progressive religious tradition of which this gathering is part.

(light chalice) 

For all those who celebrate the resurrection of Jesus,

may this day be another affirmation of divine love and promise;

For all those who see the eternal story

of returning spring and life beginning anew,

may you breathe deeply of a season of promise and hope.

For all who are enduring despair or hopelessness this Easter,

may you find in this time of such suffering and darkness

a doorway to light and warmth that offers you freedom.

For all of us: we can do what no one person can do in isolation;

rolling the heavy stone aside reminds us we are far stronger

together in community than we ever could be on our own.

Hymn (on sheet): ‘Life’s Rebirth’

Our first hymn this morning is on your hymn sheet: ‘Life’s Rebirth’. For those joining via zoom the words will be up on screen (as they will for all hymns). Feel free to stand or sit as you prefer.

A day like many other days

Has seen us gather here to sing

And offer words which reach for thoughts

That lie beyond their capturing;

Yet may those prayers our lives renew:

From rocks of thought a vision hew.

We tell from land to land our tales

Where powers of hope shape life from death,

In differing words that share a dream –

With glorying shout, or whispered breath;

To caves of cold, dark unconcern

We bring our lights of love to burn.

Such warmth can melt a winter’s cold

In human hearts, as flower and field,

And push aside the blocking stone

With which so many a heart is sealed;

May I be never shut inside

The tomb of selfishness and pride.

This day, like many other days,

May see us roll the stone to find

A kindred soul who thirsts for light

Yet to the darkness was resigned;

So may we stretch our hands to lead

To life’s rebirth all those we’ve freed.

Candles of Joy and Concern:

Each week when we gather together, we share a simple ritual of candles of joy and concern, an opportunity to light a candle and share something that is in our heart with the community. So we’ve an opportunity now, for anyone who would like to do so, to light a candle and say a few words about what it represents. We’ll go to the people in the building first, then to Zoom.

So I invite some of you here in person to come and light a candle and then if you wish to tell us who or what you light your candle for – please keep it brief – be considerate of others. I’m going to ask you to come to the lectern to speak, as we want people to be able to hear you. 

(in person candles)

And if that’s everyone in the room we’ll go over to the people on Zoom next – you might like to switch to gallery view at this stage – just unmute yourselves when you are ready and speak out – and we should be able to hear you and see you up on the big screen here in the church.

(zoom candles)

And I’m going to light one more candle, as we often do, to represent all those joys and concerns that we hold in our hearts this day, but which we don’t feel able to speak out loud. (light candle)

Time of Prayer & Reflection: based on words by Shari Woodbury

Let’s take those joys and concerns into an extended time of prayer. This prayer is based on some words – an Easter prayer – by Shari Woodbury. You might want to adjust your position for comfort, close your eyes, or soften your gaze. There might be a posture that helps you feel more prayerful. Whatever works for you. Do whatever you need to do to get into the right state of body and mind for us to pray together – to be fully present here and now, in this sacred time and space – with ourselves, with each other, and with that which is both within us and beyond us. (pause)

Spirit of Life, God of All Love, in whom we live and move and have our being,

   we turn our full attention to you, the light within and without,

      as we tune in to the depths of this life, and the greater wisdom

         to which – and through which – we are all intimately connected.

      Be with us now as we allow ourselves to drop into the

         silence and stillness at the very centre of our being. (pause)

Voice still and small, as we turn inward, we listen for you.

This Easter morning, open our hearts, to hear you in the story of Jesus.

Let us set aside any residual resistance so that we may encounter the truth it holds for us.

Through sorrow and pain, his followers continued to hear that still voice of pure love.

In the uncertain days after his cruel death, the memory of his words surely comforted them.

The quiet voices, the tender holding of one another through grief, accompanied them.

Through all the years, they held onto his voice—and they found their own voices.

Holy spark within us all, may we too hear the voices of love—

voices that the powers would drown out even still today, if they could.

May we too notice the stirring of conscience, the rustling of compassion, within ourselves.

Whether the voice speaks to us of our neighbour who is hungry,

or all those people yearning to be accepted and loved just as they are,

or the injustices and tragedies unfolding around the globe—let us not shut it out.

The voice of truth and courage sings through all the years

when we are open to hear that voice—and to be that voice.

It matters not how long it has been dormant in us,

the voice still and small can be resurrected at any time.

Easter is listening, hearing, heeding and being that voice. (pause)

And let us take a few quiet moments now to look inward, to get in touch with what’s real,

what is going on beneath the surface of our lives this morning. Let us notice what we’re carrying.

What troubles us. What questions or uncertainties we are faced with. What hopes we nurture. (pause)

And from that place of realness – silently, inwardly, ask for what you most need – don’t get too hung up on who or what you’re asking – maybe it’s God, maybe you’re casting it out into the Universe. Even if you’re the only one to hear your prayer – be clear on what you need in this moment. (pause)

And let us also be sure to give thanks for what we already have. Let us look back on the week and recall all those moments – large or small – of kindness, generosity, comfort – even moments of joy. Silently, inwardly, take the time to savour those gifts, connect with gratitude, and take in the good. (pause)

And let us turn outwards now, shifting our attention to the world around us, from those who are closest to our heart, to neighbours and strangers, our wider community, stretching ever onward, as we sense our connection to every living being we share this planet with, and hold them all in love. (pause)

Spirit of Life – God of all Love – as this time of prayer comes to a close, we offer up

   our joys and concerns, our hopes and fears, our beauty and brokenness,

      and we call on you for insight, healing, and renewal.

As we look forward now to the coming week,

     help us to live well each day and be our best selves;

     using our unique gifts in the service of love, justice and peace. Amen.

Reading: ‘Good Friday’ by Bob Janis (read by David)

On this good, good

Friday my heart goes out

to my companions at Calvary,

by which I mean

Those who are witnesses

to the death of life and end of love,

those who are broken open like crumbs upon the water,

those who are sick and crying out,

those to whom no music is playing anymore,

anyone lost, anyone lonely,

all thieves and trespassers,

the generous loves dead at the hands of men

and the men and women with imperfect hands,

the poor whose dreams are low to the ground enough

to be reached by the jackboots,

the forsaken under a stormy sky.

My heart goes out

to my companions at Calvary.

I wish I could tell you,

“three short days, and then voila,”

but the truth is, who knows.

I’m here with you, that’s all.

The night is coming and may bring no rest.

Tomorrow may be the day hope finally

gives up the ghost,

and we can stop fussing around with it.

Sunday, if you like,

I’ll come with you to the tomb.

Hymn (on sheet): ‘We Cannot Speculate, Or Glance’

Thanks David.  Let’s sing again now – our second hymn is on the back of your hymn sheet – it’s a relatively modern Easter hymn I think called ‘We Cannot Speculate, Or Glance’. We had a go at singing it a couple of years ago and the tune wasn’t great so I’ve picked a different tune this time (and it might seem a weird choice for Easter as it’s the tune to a Christmas Carol! See how we go.)

We cannot speculate, or glance

into the well of history.

Nor can we look beyond this time

with any sense of certainty.

We only have our faith and hope,

to make us stand, to help us cope.

Great God we grasp at straws of faith,

of things we hope will point to you.

We read the ancient texts and scan

those distant myths to make them new.

And all the time we live between

these metaphors and what is seen.

The past is gone, we cannot hear

more than an echo down the age.

And what is still to come we fear;

we see each other's pent up rage.

Yet what we need is close at hand,

your present love in every land.

True resurrection brings to bear

the things that heal, create, unite.

Love launches its triumphant praise

and builds on joy and will delight.

The former things are passed away,

dead night transformed to brightest day.

Reading: ‘Holy Saturday: The Practice of Remaining’ by Anna Blaedel (abridged) (read by Antony)

In the Christian calendar we move through Holy Week, marking Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter Sunday. Of these holy days, Holy Saturday will receive the least attention. It is an awkward day, one without clear rituals. It marks the liminal space between life and death, the ways both life and death are real and present. Holy Saturday calls us to confront the horrors in our internal and external worlds that haunt us. To face how empty and hollowed out we can feel, even when we know the tomb, too, is empty.

Holy Saturday is an uncomfortable day, inviting us to tend to the realities of the world that make us uncomfortable. It remains holy, and calls us to remain in the chaos and confusion of a world, a life, that is overflowing with horror and wonder, both. Loss and gift, both. Beauty and brutality, both. Terror and tenderness, both. Crucifixion and resurrection, both.

On Good Friday, Jesus is crucified by empire, executed by the state. He is tortured by a system hell bent on stoking fear, preserving power, responding to perceived threat with retaliation and retribution. Killed by people unwilling and unable to sit with pain, and discomfort. How tempting it is, for us too, to rush to fix or resolve or numb our pain, pretend away our discomfort, rather than learning to bear with it, and bear witness. How tempting it is, for us too, to rush to healing without remaining in the work of repair, reparation, redemption.

Bearing witness to what is—to the complexity, to the pain and sorrow and despair that is real, to the possibility and healing and glory that is real—is a practice of remaining. Remaining faithful. Remaining with. Resisting either/or narratives of victory or defeat or triumph or despair, and remaining with the both/and realities of suffering and redemption and fear and flourishing.

The call of Holy Saturday is to practice remaining. To remain with pain, bear witness to wounds. These are practices of new life, practices opening new possibilities, practices of resurrection.  Redemption is encountered not in victory over death, but through remaining with death in a way that honours both life and loss, gift and grief, fear and wonder. No easy answers. No quick fixes. No superficial platitudes. God meets us in deep, complicated, and messy ways and places.

When we remain, when we practice remaining in and with, bearing witness to the realities of crucifixion in our world, we prepare for and practice resurrection. We remain with the realities of trauma, terror, and pain we’d rather ignore or explain away. We bear witness to a Power that opens possibilities we can barely begin to imagine. We bear witness to a Presence that persists in every season and seasonal shift. We bear witness to a Love that remains—with us, in us, and through us—and remains urgently needed, in and through it all.

Words for Meditation: ‘Trust the Hidden Work of God’ by M Jade Kaiser

Thanks Antony. We’re moving into a time of meditation now. To take us into stillness I’m going to share words from M Jade Kaiser of the Enfleshed collective. This will take us into a few minutes of shared silence which will end with the sound of a bell. Then we’ll hear some music for meditation from our quartet. So let’s do what we need to do to get comfortable – adjust your position if you need to – perhaps put your feet flat on the floor to ground yourself – maybe close your eyes. As we always say, the words are just an offering, so feel free to use this time to meditate in your own way.

Don’t be fooled by the way we tell the story.

Resurrection is rarely a swift occurrence.

Just look to forest floors or the pages of history

and find the pace of sacred things.

Trust the hidden work of God

quietly moving beneath

the fractured and fissured surface:

tending and holding.

pruning and clarifying.

undoing and recreating.

If all is still quiet,

take heart and remain.

There is so much courage in

hope that resists timelines

compressed by technology and profit.

There is so much power in

refusing to rush or be rushed

in righteous labours of reorienting and repair.

May divine unfoldings be granted all the space they need.

May the testimony of freshly budding things

strengthen and inspire us.

And may the wisdom of generations

be our teachers, our anchors, our comfort.

Period of Silence and Stillness (~3 minutes) – end with a bell  

Interlude: Now the Green Blade Riseth – Simon Lindley (performed by our Quartet of Singers and Andrew Robinson)

Reading: ‘Being the Resurrection’ by Victoria Weinstein (read by Juliet)

The stone has got to be rolled back from the tomb again and again every year.

Roll up your sleeves.

He is not coming back, you know.

He is not coming back unless it is we who rise for him.

We who lay healing hands on the reviled and rejected like he did – on his behalf --

We who rage for righteousness in his insistent voice.

We who love the sinner, even knowing that "the sinner"

is no further off than our own heartbeat.

He will not be back to join us at the table

To share God's extravagant banquet

– all are invited, come as you are –

and so it is you and I who must feast for him,

must say the grace and break the bread and pass it to the left,

and pour the wine and pass it to the right.

And treat each one so tenderly

as though just this morning she or he or they

made the personal effort to make it back from heaven,

or from hell, but certainly from death, to be by our side.

Because if by some miracle

(and why not a miracle?)

He did come back

Wouldn't he want to see us like this?

Wouldn't it be a miracle to live for just one day

so that if he did, by some amazing feat,

come riding into town

He could take a look around and say

"This is what I meant!"

And we could say

it took us a long time...

but we finally figured it out.

Oh, let us live to make it so.

You are the resurrection and the life.

Mini-Reflection: ‘Easter Awakening’ by Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall  

Thanks Juliet. As I hinted at the top of the service, Easter can be a tricky day for Unitarians, as each of us is likely to sit in a different relation to the Christian tradition. And the Easter story is challenging in a lot of different ways at once. In the mainstream churches there will be much more of a sense of having gone on a journey of preparation through Lent, and the build-up through Holy Week, giving a lot more time and space to linger over the story of Jesus’ downfall and suffering in worldly terms, before arriving at Easter Day and the sense of triumph that goes with the story of his resurrection.

We didn’t have a service on Maundy Thursday, or Good Friday, or Holy Saturday – but we can’t just skip to the end of the story – that’s why our readings this morning have taken us on that journey (albeit in rather an abbreviated fashion). Still, I wanted us to rewind a bit and consider some of the resonances between the horrors of the passion narrative and the horrors of our own times. And I kind-of intentionally didn’t include any scriptural telling of the story in today’s service – let’s work with the version of Easter that we’re each carrying in our own minds and hearts (no matter how sketchy that might be for some of us) – and let’s skip back a week and think about all the events which led up to the crucifixion and resurrection. Jesus’s entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday when he is lauded by the crowds. His turning over tables in a rage and throwing the money-lenders out of the temple. The Last Supper where he instructs his disciples to remember him (and he also predicts that he will ultimately be betrayed). Jesus’ deep anguish as he prays in the garden of Gethsemane and asks to be delivered from his suffering (but ultimately accepts God’s will for him). His betrayal, his arrest, and the scattering of his disciples. Peter denying that he knows Jesus. The trial, by Pontius Pilate, who supposedly gives in to the arbitrary will of the mob, and sends Jesus to be crucified. And then the horrible account of Jesus carrying the heavy cross to Golgotha, being flogged and mocked, and finally put to death. There are a number of sayings attributed to Jesus on the cross but the one that speaks to me is ‘My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?’ That sense of – after all this – this holy life – there’s no happy ending – he’s just abandoned to his fate. 

For me, the Easter story speaks to all human suffering, be it on a personal, societal, or global level.     My guess is most of us won’t have to dig very deep to find resonances in our own lives – times when triumph has turned to disaster almost overnight – when we’ve been enraged by other people’s bad behaviour, unfairness, or injustice, and we’ve lashed out – when ‘the mob’ have turned against us, or a group we belong to, and we’re going to get hurt – indeed when the state itself, the powers that be, the empire, is coming after us – or when we’ve felt betrayed and abandoned by friends or family – or times when we can see we’re heading for some terrible car-crash of a situation and there’s no way out. And I suspect a lot of us feel that way about world events right now – whether it’s the rapid and terrifying rise of fascism, or war in Gaza and Ukraine, or the climate catastrophe – the horrors abound.

In every life, sometimes, suffering and pain arrives at our door, and it can’t be swerved. And in some lives, let’s be honest, it just keeps on coming, life rain downs so many blows. Some people – and some communities (that’s particularly in my mind this week) – get far more than their fair share. We need to acknowledge that suffering isn’t entirely randomly distributed, and a large part of it can be attributed to unjust human systems, and those who profit by those systems, intentionally driving others into desperate circumstances, and persecuting the most marginalised in order to ‘divide and conquer’.   Still, suffering and pain come to us all, even the most privileged, and we mustn’t dismiss or discount our own or anyone else’s suffering just because others have got it worse. Human suffering is universal. Bob Janis listed many sufferings in our first reading, ‘Good Friday’, which Brian read for us: ‘those who are witnesses to the death of life and end of love, those who are broken open like crumbs upon the water, those who are sick and crying out, those to whom no music is playing anymore, anyone lost, anyone lonely, all thieves and trespassers… the poor whose dreams are low to the ground enough to be reached by the jackboots, the forsaken under a stormy sky.’ In the end that’s all of us human beings.  

So how does the Easter story speak to such suffering? I’ll return to the words of Kathleen McTigue: ‘We are a troubled tribe, we human beings. The unfolding story of our time on earth is clouded with pain and cruelty, with missed opportunities, unthinkable heedlessness, and indifference. It is also marked by the bright notes of decency, kindness, freedom, and courage. Easter proclaims that we each have a part to play in how the story unfolds, if we are willing to wake up.’  Easter is a call for us to wake up.

Now, we can’t rush to resurrection. In the face of suffering our first task is to remain with it, to face it, to endure it, as best we can. As we heard from Anna Blaedel in our second reading: ‘the call of Holy Saturday is… to remain with pain, bear witness to wounds. These are practices of new life, practices opening new possibilities, practices of resurrection.  Redemption is encountered… through remaining… in a way that honours both life and loss, gift and grief, fear and wonder. No easy answers. No quick fixes. No superficial platitudes. God meets us in deep, complicated, and messy ways and places.’

So we endure suffering – and I want to acknowledge here that not everybody endures, not everybody survives what life throws at them – but the Easter message addresses those of us who are still here, for now – those who are, somehow, still standing (or perhaps we’re crawling, on our knees, or curled up in the foetal position) – but we are nonetheless still here after the worst possible thing imaginable has happened, and we ask ourselves ‘what now?’ or ‘how on earth do I pick myself up and carry on?’ and then, perhaps, ‘how can I help to make things better – ameliorate suffering – mine and others?’

Let us look to the disciples who are left behind. Mary Magdalene especially, who goes to the tomb, and finds it empty, the stone rolled away. She is distraught. And then someone calls out her name – ‘Mary’ – and she instantly recognises who it is standing there next to her – and she responds ‘Rabbi.’ Kathleen McTigue reflects on the significance of this moment of profound spiritual awakening: ‘When Mary heard her name called, suddenly her eyes were opened to a new reality. She was called out from… her grief and despair, and from within herself she found a new way to see and to understand what had happened to her… the story points to the moments in every life when something within us is called out, called forth, called to a deeper understanding of our world. Easter… is a time that calls us to open our eyes in a new way, to see not just what we expect to see, but perhaps some bright and mysterious truth we could not fathom before, something completely new and unexpected.’ Words on Easter as a call to spiritual awakening from Kathleen McTigue. 

As this reflection was coming together I happened to listen to an interview with a Buddhist teacher, James Baraz from the Spirit Rock Meditation Centre, and he dropped some wisdom from the Buddha which seems surprisingly pertinent. He said: ‘suffering is usually what wakes us up’.  Not that it always works out that way – sometimes suffering can lead us to shut down, lash out at others, become embittered and circle the wagons – but it might also lead us to become ‘woke’ in the modern sense (a label I am more than happy to claim, though many use it disparagingly) – I’d understand ‘woke’ as meaning ‘awake to the sufferings of others and the social injustices that so often cause that suffering’. Or it might wake us up in the sense of giving us insight into our own part in creating, perpetuating, or unnecessarily aggravating our own suffering, through our own habits of mind (quite a Buddhist angle).

As our final reading from Victoria Weinstein reminds us, awakening is not enough, insight alone is not enough: we need to roll up our sleeves and live differently – be the resurrection ourselves – as she says, ‘lay healing hands on the reviled and rejected’, ‘rage for righteousness’, and ‘treat each one so tenderly’.  If we are still here, if we are awake to the world’s woes, then we still have a chance to make things better – to help build the Kingdom of God, the Beloved Community, Heaven on Earth.  ‘Easter proclaims that we each have a part to play in how the story unfolds, if we are willing to wake up.’ 

Responsive Reading: ‘We Don't Know What Happened’ by Daniel Budd (adapted) 

To draw things to a close I want to invite you to join in with a responsive reading – it’s becoming an Easter tradition for us – and an acknowledgement of our varied and uncertain Unitarian responses to the traditional story – the words are in the middle of your hymn sheet and they’ll appear on screen shortly. The words are by Daniel Budd – it’s called ‘We Don’t Know What Happened’ – and I invite you to join in with speaking the responses which are printed in bold.

We're not sure what happened. But we know what it's like,

when someone appears in our life whose message we feel offers hope,

whose way of being inspires us with new ways of living.

We know what it's like when they fall short of our expectations,

or worse, when they are cut down and cast aside

by the forces of hate, bigotry, and closed-mindedness.

We're not sure what happened. But, we know what it's like

when someone has grown profoundly into our own lives,

who seems as much a part of our living as our own breathing.

We know what it's like when they are taken from us,

perhaps prematurely, by unwanted change, or by death,

and the empty place now in our souls is much like an empty tomb.

We're not sure what happened. But, we know what it's like

to feel sorrow and loss, despair and grief. We know

the waves of tears and the thoughts of the past which flow through us.

We know that memories and stories begin to fill the emptiness;

we integrate their gifts to us, and our lives are shored up with

a different presence, which will live with us all our lives.

We're not sure what happened. But, we know what it's like

to realize, to have it dawn upon us, that what we have known

and loved lives on with us and within us, forever, a part of who we are.

We know that somehow, in our hearts and souls, resurrection is real;

not that of the body, perhaps, but of the spirit — a spirit

renewed, even reborn, in the midst of our lives and our living.

We're not sure what happened. But, we know there is a difficult hope,

a faith, that through whatever sorrow or grief we are feeling,

there is also a growing sense of grace and gratitude, of joy and thanksgiving,

in the mysterious and abiding astonishment of being fully human.

In this wonder, may we find strength, within our own sense of Easter. Amen.

Hymn 268 (grey): ‘Jesus Christ is Risen Today’

Let’s sing again. Our final hymn is number 268 in the grey books: ‘Jesus Christ is Risen Today’. Rather traditional words by our usual standards but it’s about time we had some alleluias!

Jesus Christ is risen today, Alleluia!

Earth and heaven in chorus say, Alleluia!

Raise your joys and triumphs high, Alleluia!

Sing, ye heavens, and earth reply, Alleluia!

Love’s redeeming work is done, Alleluia!

Fought the fight, the battle won, Alleluia!

Death in vain forbids him rise, Alleluia!

Christ has opened paradise, Alleluia!

Hearts are strong, and voices sing, Alleluia!

Where, O death, is now thy sting? Alleluia!

As he died his truth to save, Alleluia!

Where thy victory, O grave? Alleluia!

Soar we now where Christ has led, Alleluia!

Living out the words he said, Alleluia!

Made like him, like him we rise, Alleluia!

Ours the cross, the grave, the skies, Alleluia!

Announcements:

Thanks to Ramona for tech-hosting and Charlotte for co-hosting. Thanks to David, Antony, and Juliet for reading. Thanks to Andrew and our Quartet (Margaret, Lucy, Benjie, Edwin) for lovely music. Thanks to Patricia for greeting and Liz for doing the coffee. For those of you who are here in-person – we’ve got a lunch after the service today – so please do hang around for that.

Tonight and Friday at 7pm we’ve got our ‘Heart and Soul’ online contemplative spiritual gathering – this week we’re considering ‘Messiness’ – email me if you want to join us and I’ll share the link.

Community Singing is on this Wednesday, all being well, always great fun but we sometimes have last-minute changes of plan due to the busy life of our singing leader so if you’re interested in coming to that make sure you’re on my singing mailing list for last-minute updates.

We’ll be having our Membership Service and AGM on the 27th so please fill in your membership form to renew for this year and plan to be there on the day to support your committee.

This month’s Better World Book Club is on ‘The Life Inside’ by Andy West. You’ve still got a week to read it if you haven’t already. Let me know if you want to join and I’ll send the link for that.  

And don’t forget we’ve got a tea dance coming up on the 4th May with Rachel Sparks. That’s open to all, tell your friends, should be a good do with plenty of cake. And as I’m celebrating my 50th birthday that weekend there’ll also be some easy-going social time after that – I’m intentionally not calling it a birthday party because I’m not really a party person! – a bit like our crafternoons – I’ll get the art materials out for anyone who wants to stay and play and eat cake until 5-ish.

Details of all our various activities are printed on the back of the order of service, for you to take away, and also in the Friday email.  Or why not take home a copy of our newsletter?

The congregation very much has a life beyond Sunday mornings; we encourage you to keep in touch, look out for each other, and do what you can to nurture supportive connections.

Time for our closing words and closing music now.  

Benediction: based on words by Erik Walker Wikstrom

There is so much suffering in our world—

So much pain. So much loss.

So many people trapped in tombs—

some of their own making and some thrust upon them.

And we bear witness to all this suffering in these troubled times.

But let us go forth from this hour of worship determined

to roll back those stones, to heal the wounded, and to raise the dead.

Let us live courageous lives of liberating love.  And let us practice resurrection every day.

May it be so for the greater good of all. Amen.

Closing Music: Most Glorious Lord of Life – Bob Chilcott (performed by our Quartet of Singers and Andrew Robinson)

Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall

20th April 2025