Tenebrae: A service of shadows

"What is it?"

In a nutshell, the word means 'darkness' or 'shadows' and it's a service we do in the Christian tradition during 'Holy Week' - the week with Good Friday in it (which means: This Week!).

Someone recently told me that they weren't into 'new fangled' services, which is good because this service dates back to mediaeval times. The service reflects on the passion of Jesus, the Christ and as we pass along the journey to the cross, at various junctures, candles are extinguished and the shadows lengthen.

As the mood darkens, so too do the church building, until eventually we leave in darkness and silence.

It's high drama of the sort that Church used to provide before the wind u gramophone and steam radio came a long. So, even if you can't make it to our service (St Francis' Church B79 8JB) I'm sure you can find one somewhere near to you.

Why not have a look see and experience something amazing in the run up to Easter?

At the cross where I first saw the dark!

Of course the words of the Isaac Watts hymn are, 'First saw the light,' and yet it is surely the darkness, the fruit of sin harvested and made obvious in the separation that Father and Son experience, that illuminates! How odd to think that the darkness is the source of the light that dispels the darkness within us - a real conundrum.

William Booth, the founder of the Salvation Army, said:

'Most Christians would like to send their recruits to Bible college for five years. I would like to send them to Hell for five minutes. That would do more than anything else to prepare them for a lifetime of compassionate ministry.'

Many years ago I tried this by taking some Christians to Soho's red-light district and found, to my surprise, that the experience did not raise their blood pressure and enlist them to stand against the darkness against which we are called to contend. I tried it with Amsterdam's red-light district (a notch lower still and sure that this place where self-respect and cheapening of life combine to surely make us draw a line and determine to make a stand. And yet, even though distaste was found, there was no inflamed passion and no taking up of the King's shilling!

The news coming in from Iraq at the destruction of Christian communities has raised among many Christians a hearty, 'Oh dear!' I've seen more passionate responses from Christians over their football club's cup run or league place than I have over Iraq. Change the scenery and I can honestly say that I've seen more enraged, and engaged, passions from Christians over the right to be, or have, or do, than I have over the conflict between us and the result of sin.

It is at the cross where the pain of separation is made manifest. The problem is that the promise of eternal life overwhelms us and causes us to deviate from the real issue - that moment when the distance is made obvious - and rather than contend with sin (in us, in others) we look merely to the blessing that we 'deserve', that healing which 'by divine right' should be ours for the taking. We retreat into our own self-serving world and cling to the salvation Jesus (being the Christ) wins for us without ever being touched by the darkness of it.

Would that those around me who claim the label 'Christian' might find in the darkness of the cross the passion to live as befits the life we claim to live rather than the self-serving and hollow deceptions so often found.

The darkness is apparent and yet many Christians are more concerned with their own  blessings than the scene at the cross and the import of what happened there. They are blinded by the promises so much that they cannot see the road they take is wrong. The light dazzles and confuses rather than renders the darkness impotent and broken.

We look to Grace and forget discipline (but who liked the cabbage when they were young?); we look to eternal life and live each day unable to fly on God's breath. We hear the words of life and live by their sound and not the voice that spoke them.

Would that for one brief second we would understand that darkness that Jesus experienced for us on the cross - that we would, glimpsing hell, take up for ourselves a 'lifetime of compassionate ministry' rather than the self-serving religion we have made for ourselves as a parody of that which Jesus died to give us.

Lord, help me to live in the reality of the cross;

To look into the eyes of Jesus and to walk in His footsteps,

To walk in the light rather than be blinded by the promises.

To live a life of truly compassionate ministry.

Amen.

The Cell: Mental illness

Trapped in a cell, not of walls, but of mind;
Invisible to those outside,
Unbreakable to those within.
The sunny days that only you can see
As trapped within my life, gloom is my reality,
And where you see hope;
I see only more of the same.
You give me anti-psychotics but fail to see - 
The way that psychosis and your, many, diagnoses,
are really anti-me.
But there's a tunnel,
created with despair,
and death.

I'm free!

In memory of a man who proved that mental illness is indeed a terminal disease and on a day that is World Mental Heath day I find his death to be a stark reminder of the tragedies that accompany mental health issues

dona eis requiem