Category Archives: Easter

An Anglican Church of Canada Easter

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It’s all about politics, apparently: “oppressive political regimes, torture, capital punishment, non-violent political action, and martyrdom.”

From here:

The church where I served as student minister has a number of very large stained glass windows: Christ with the children, the women at the empty tomb, and a rather lurid depiction of Christ on the cross, featuring a great deal of purple and agony. My son was three years old while we were at this particular parish and, of course, he loved that crucifixion. As a result, we (or rather, my husband and son, as I was generally otherwise occupied at church) talked quite a lot about Christ’s death, conversations that naturally (for my husband and son, at least) became conversations about oppressive political regimes, torture, capital punishment, non-violent political action, and martyrdom. Holy Week is not for the faint of heart.

According to the Rev. Rhonda Waters, the “good news of God’s Kingdom” is not that Jesus bore our sins on the cross, suffered the wrath of God on our behalf, reconciled us to God the Father and ensured that we would live with him in eternity. No, that is far too trite; instead Easter invites us to confront the really profound truths that the “world is a deeply loved and loveable place”. Non-transcendent Christianity at its finest:

Jesus still taught the radical good news of God’s Kingdom because the world is not a hopeless place. In fact, the world is a deeply loved and loveable place, and Holy Week invites us to confront the depth of both of these truths.

As is so often the case with vapid Christianity, the pageantry is the only part that remains intact – even the Resurrection, although I suspect it signifies something different to the author:

As Christians, we need to experience Holy Week in its fullness—and we should include our children in that journey. By participating in Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, the Easter Vigil, and finally the Feast of the Resurrection on Sunday morning.

Although Jesus’ death was at the hands of the Romans, the instigators were the religious authorities of the day – an unpalatable truth for Waters, probably because, given the opportunity, the religious establishment would do it again. So the villain was empire building:

empire will go to horrifying lengths to preserve itself

Fred Hiltz’s Easter message misses the mark

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Primate Fred Hiltz delivered his Easter message on video. You can watch it all here (I’m sure he would be grateful: it only has 52 hits thus far). Most of it is maudlin Residential School hand-wringing delivered in a lugubrious monotone. This next clip I found interesting, though:

Holy Week is “all about reconciliation”, of course but not primarily reconciliation with one another: it is firstly and most importantly about reconciliation with God under whose wrath we justly find ourselves until delivered by the penal substitutionary atonement of Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross.

In the Anglican All You Need is Love Church of Canada, God’s wrath, our sin, our deserving of punishment, our inability to “do good works pleasant and acceptable to God, without the grace of God by Christ preventing us” have all been buried in the bog of sentimental liberal theological mush that has been oozing into the denomination for decades.

An Easter of contrasts

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Easter, as a celebration of the resurrection of Jesus– and let’s be clear, I mean the historical fact of his bodily resurrection – brings the hope of life everlasting to all who believe in his atoning sacrifice and rising again.

This year was bitter-sweet: not a sour disagreeable bitterness, but a tinge of sadness that, by being starkly opposed to the trite cheerfulness that so often accompanies the celebration of a holiday, made the hope shine more brightly.

Our first Easter service was at Coronation Park at 6:00 a.m. – a time of day that feels like the middle of the night to me. The exquisite  sunrise made it seem a little less like the middle of the night and brightened the sadness of missing an old dear friend who no longer attends the sunrise service because he forgets to come – he has Alzheimer’s disease.

After the sunrise service and a quick trip home to splash cold water on my face, my wife and I set off to church for an Easter breakfast; we left early because my wife, an accomplished organiser, had to be there first to – organise. After eating too many just-baked croissants, I wandered into the sanctuary to tune my guitar and check the sound levels; as I looked around the familiar sanctuary and inhaled the unique aroma of cedar and carpet mould, I remembered that this would be the last celebration of Easter in our building.  The negotiated settlement with the Diocese of Niagara means we will relinquish the building to them in June. In spite – or perhaps because – of this, the worship during the service was particularly moving.

Once the main Easter service was finished, a few of us drove to a local youth prison for a monthly chapel service: I supply the musical part of the worship. We have been conducting this service for over 20 years and, during that time, have had the pleasure of trying to sing above a row of Satanists chanting curses, ducking to avoid hurled projectiles, studied indifference and the occasional intervening of the piercing light of God’s grace. This time it was in the form of a young man who asked us to pray for him after the service. He was clutching a Bible and told us he was getting out soon and was looking forward to the birth of his new baby. I don’t know how old he was – he looked about 15. While we prayed, I tried not to think “he doesn’t stand a chance” – because, with God’s grace, he does. And the one thing in his favour was that, like the tax collector in Luke 18:9-14, he knew he was a sinner.

It’s always a relief to exit the prison and feel the cool air. It’s too hot in there: I keep thinking that it’s because the flames of hell are licking at the foundations. Arriving home, all I really wanted to do was lie on the bed, but the house was filling up with people for Easter dinner. After a few massive hugs from my grandchildren, I revived somewhat, settled down to eat, drink, be merry and regale my son with all that “has been happening at church”. He was especially interested in this photo.

Church of England vicar suggests celebrating Easter with sex and chocolate

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To celebrate Easter, Father Phil Ritchie recommends staying in bed, eating chocolate and copulating – because going to church isn’t “cool and funky”; whether this has to be done simultaneously is unclear.

I must have missed something: that’s what I used to do before I was a Christian. I am completely indifferent to the “funkiness” of Christianity and its institutions: what I care about is whether it is true or not. If it is, no other reason for attending church is needed; if it isn’t, no amount of “funkiness” could persuade me to attend.

To be fair to Father Phil, this does have one redeeming feature: if at some point I need a self-caricaturing vicar to illustrate how the Church of England submersed itself beneath a morass of trendy irrelevance, I need look no further.

From here:

This could be one religious commandment that a congregation might find very easy to follow.

Father Phil Ritchie from All Saints Church in Hove, East Sussex, has said Easter Sunday is the perfect time for staying in bed, eating chocolate and having sex.

The vicar gave the alternative suggestion for a way to celebrate the resurrection of Christ after admitting that church just isn’t ‘cool and funky’.

Father Ritchie said: ‘The problem with the church is that we stay inside our building and occasionally come out and say “Why don’t you come to our church, it’s cool and funky”.

‘To be honest, it’s not.

‘I would love more people to come at 10am on Sunday and I would welcome them to All Saints.

‘For Christians this is the most important day of the year.All life and all hope flows from it.

‘But there are plenty of ways to celebrate without coming to a draughty Victorian building. So why not stay at home, have a lie in, have sex and eat some chocolate.’

Seattle school insists on calling Easter Eggs “Spring Spheres”

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From here:

“At the end of the week I had an idea to fill little plastic eggs with treats and jelly beans and other candy, but I was kind of unsure how the teacher would feel about that,” Jessica said.

She was concerned how the teacher might react to the eggs after of a meeting earlier in the week where she learned about “their abstract behavior rules.”

“I went to the teacher to get her approval and she wanted to ask the administration to see if it was okay,” Jessica explained. “She said that I could do it as long as I called this treat ‘spring spheres.’ I couldn’t call them Easter eggs.”

Rather than question the decision, Jessica opted to “roll with it.” But the third graders had other ideas.

“When I took them out of the bag, the teacher said, ‘Oh look, spring spheres’ and all the kids were like ‘Wow, Easter eggs.’ So they knew,” Jessica said.

Just imagine if someone had had the temerity to suggest that Easter eggs are a symbol of Jesus’ resurrection. Would the S.W.A.T. team have arrived in time to contain the threat or not?

The Father’s love

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When I was very young my father would hold my hand when taking me for a walk. While holding his hand I knew beyond any question that I was safe: there was nothing in the world that could harm me. As I grew older this feeling of security faded, of course, and I even forgot that I had ever experienced it.

When I became a Christian in 1978 and realised that I also had a Father in heaven, my first experience of him brought the forgotten feelings of early childhood security flooding back. It was as if a hand reached from heaven and took mine; once again I knew there was nothing in the world that could harm me.

My father died in 1993. A few months before, I had been visiting my parents and he had told me that he did not know what would happen to him when he died. He knew I was a Christian and I had talked to him about my faith, but I was still looking for a chance to talk to him some more; my mouth opened but nothing came out – he walked out of the room with me still poised to say something. Later, when I received the phone call that he had had a heart attack, I was furious at myself for missing the opportunity I had prayed for. He spent a week in a coma and it seemed unlikely he would recover, so I returned to the UK to be with him.

I arrived at the hospital with my mother at about 5:00 pm. The nurses told me that even though he was in a coma, I should try to speak to him, so I started reading to him from the Psalms. At round 5:30 I read John 3:16  – For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life – and said “Dad, Jesus died for you, all you have to do is accept his free gift of salvation”. He took one more breath and died.

Although I felt waves of grief, underneath the grief was the same security I felt when, as a child, I held his hand; I knew that he was with Jesus and that I would see him again.

I believe my father’s love for me was so strong that, even though in a coma, he managed to hold on to life for a week until I arrived because he wanted me to know that he had eternal life: he didn’t want me to worry about him.

My Father’s love for me was so strong that he gave his only Son so that I would not have to die and face the consequences of my sin. Neither would my father.