The Church of England is a ‘Liturgical Church’. Broadly speaking this means that individual parish churches follow a pattern of prayer and readings defined in a book – The Book of Common Prayer or Common Worship – and promulgated by Law. All clergy, both at their ordination and at all subsequent licensings as Rector, Vicar or Priest-in-Charge, are called upon to publicly affirm that ‘in public prayer and administration of the sacraments, [they] will use only the forms of service which are authorised or allowed by Canon.’ The idea of this in principle is that, dating from the Reformation, and rooted previously in Catholic practice, one can go to any church in the country and know exactly what is taking place in worship, because all are following the same ordering of services.
One of the key advantages of being a Liturgical Church is the ordering of worship according to a Calendar of Seasons. Whilst the Christian Calendar
is ancient and dates to the early centuries AD in a climate very different to that of our own, we are fortunate in the UK that the Church Calendar mirrors our seasons very closely. The season of Advent, which marks the beginning of the new Christian Year at the beginning of December, speaks of the spark of life being planted in the darkest days of winter, biding its time for the light of life to emerge. The season of Christmas, beginning as it does on 25th December and extending to 6th January, celebrates the appearance of that Light of Life – the light that no darkness can quench – as our western hemisphere marks the passing of the shortest day, and the opening out of the days into light. Epiphany continues the theme of the light revealed, as we journey to Candlemas on 2nd February, when candles to see them
through the remaining dark days of winter were brought by householders to church for blessing The word Lent, from the old English word, Lengten, reflects the lengthening of the days, but is also a time of preparation in readiness to greet the Easter Morn, with all the promise and warmth that spring brings with it. The Easter season lasts through Ascensiontide, forty days later when the church marks Jesus’ Ascension into heaven, to Pentecost Sunday, fifty days after Easter, when the Church celebrates how the Holy Spirit descended upon the disciples, empowering them for the proclamation of the Gospel. It is the time at which we recognise that Christ has no body now on earth but ours, no hands and feet but ours and that we are
called to continue his work wherever we find ourselves.
After Trinity and the celebration of God revealed as Father, Son and Holy Spirit, comes the long green of the growing season, punctuated by Saints Days who inspire us by their faith and example. Lammas – the celebration of the first-fruits of the harvest and Harvest-Home (‘all is safely gathered in ere the winter storms begin’) lead into the reflective month of Remembrance. All Saints and All Souls are marked at the beginning of November, followed by the national festival of Remembrance for lives lost in war. The colour is red and the theme is the Kingdom of God, in the trust that God is the God who redeems our failure and makes all things new. The final Sunday of the year is entitled ‘Christ the King’. But as we mark Christ the King, our minds are drawn back to the lonely figure crucified on a Roman cross and forward to the child born in an outhouse to parents who are quickly forced to become refugees through the barbaric actions of King Herod the Great.
The reason I write of this Liturgical Calendar now, as we journey towards Easter in 2022, is because this year it will provide us with some structure at a time when we may need it most. For many of us, with war raging so close to home in Ukraine and with other countries equally suffering at the hands of unjust regimes, it may be hard for us to move in our thinking and feeling beyond the lament of Holy Week and Good Friday. Lent, with its emphasis on the need for repentance, Holy Week and Good Friday, with their focus on the injustice meted out to an innocent man, may match our mood as we look on helplessly at the suffering of others. Celebrating the Easter hope whilst the world is locked in pain, has in the past and may again, seem inappropriate. But we need to remember that Easter was born out of the deepest darkness, suffering and despair. Easter is not flopsy bunnies, chocolate eggs and chickens. Easter is absolute despair lived through, and emerging the other side and discovering that there is life still. For the disciples who encountered the risen Lord on the first Easter morning, the transformation to their lives was not immediate. They continued to live in fear. Easter is not a happy add-on to a sad story. Easter has its roots and essence in the very depth of darkness – the light was born in the darkness, the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. That is our hope for Ukraine, for the other hurting places of the world and for ourselves. That the light of hope that we prepare for in Advent that comes to the world in Christmas, which was snuffed out in the darkness of the cross on the Friday we call ‘Good’, was born again on Easter Day, and is the light that no darkness can conquer.
Rectory Ramblings 