The idea was simple - to open our Community Garden for a couple of hours on Holy Saturday, so that people could use it for prayer and reflection... which in turn led to the idea of the Easter Garden... which has been a really lovely project, as we've told the story simply by tweaking the objects (look out tomorrow for the resurrection update!).

This afternoon a small number of people arrived, one at a time, with couple of minutes between each visit, and spent time decorating pebbles or wood 'slices', praying, or simply sitting quietly.  From opening time to closing time, there was almost always someone other than me there... and it was a privilege to be the 'host'.

 I think the thing that struck me most was the purple ribbon fluttering in the breeze, and the resilience of the flowers to being buffeted.  Even before Storm Dave makes/made landfall, we have already had a lot of weather since we made the garden, and, so far, it has not sustained any damage.  Perhaps Holy Saturday hints at the strength of vulnerability, the strength perfected in weakness... like bobbing blooms and fluttering ribbons... like palm crosses anchored with barbecue skewers, and pebbles scattered on new-laid turf.

God of fluttering fabric and bobbing blooms

As this Holy Saturday draws to its close

Darkness falls and the storm wind whips up

May we find the still centre that is you

And the strength that is found in our own powerlessness

Amen

Today we continued our journey into the Passion story, and encountered four people who were,  some way, there in the gospel narrative of the trial and execution of Jesus...

• Pilate's wife, who may have been in Rome rather than Jerusalem, and whose message went unheeded
• Simon, a visitor from Cyrene in modern day Libya, who was dragged into an event where he had no control
• The mother of the sons of Zebedee - presumably the quarrelsome James and John - who, with other women, stood silently at the place of execution
• Joseph from a place called Arimathea, that no-one quite knows where it was, who had the audacity to ask for body of the dead Jesus, and who ensured it was safely laid to rest before nightfall

Similar numbers to last night, albeit a slightly different mix of people, each engaging with the story, praying, wondering, remembering, imagining...

I popped back late this afternoon to close up the tomb, to lay our Jesus to rest. 

Tomorrow the garden is open for quiet prayer and reflection... then what will Sunday bring?

Maundy Thursday Evening... a Tenebrae service with simple communion. This year adapted from a published liturgy entitled 'I was there' by David E Ridenhour, we heard from seven 'voices' who were there throughout Jesus' life but especially so during his final hours... 

• Doubt
• Sorrow
• Fear
• Shame
• Agony
• Hate
• Death

We were, I think, seventeen or eighteen in total, gathered at the close of day to listen to scripture, to break bread, drink wine and hear the voices speak into the gathering gloom...

As always, a powerful and poignant way to begin the Easter weekend.  Grateful to those who read, who washed up afterwards, and of course to those who participated with their quiet presence.

This afternoon two of us spent a happy hour at church transforming one of the raised beds in the Community Garden into an Easter Garden ready for the weekend... Due to the colour of the bricks, the cross doesn't show up too well in the photo, but we have a hill, a cave-tomb, a meandering pathway and a quiet garden.  Over the course of the weekend we will make small changes to the scene by moving the stone and dressing the cross.  The hope is that people will take the opportunity, especially on Holy Saturday afternoon, to spend some time in quiet contemplation.

Big thanks go to J who gave up a free afternoon to co-create this beautiful space. 

This morning I was leading a short (15 mins) Communion service for Palm Sunday on Zoom for our weekend students.  Because this is me, and because I think it matters, I spent far longer setting up the space than leading worship.

Zoom church - or Zurch - will always have a special, if bittersweet, place in my heart. Born in the adversity of a global pandemic, honed to meet the needs of a congregation who stayed online for two years, recalling memories of people now 'promoted to glory' not from Covid but because of age, infirmity or other illness that meant they never returned to onsite church... 

Choosing pieces of music that connect me to times and places, people and congregations...

And a hot cross bun for communion bread, because why not?

Since my move to Glasgow, no Palm Sunday is complete without listening to this piece of music 

Whatever Palm Sunday looks like, or means, for you, may it be the start of a truly Holy Week.