It was a simple service. The sanctuary was stripped – no altar, no pulpit, no greenery. Our magnificent tall candlestand, the Christ candle guttering atop it, was the only adornment in the chancel. A length of black cloth hung from one side of the cross and seven identical, small, pillar candles, sitting on plain glass plates, were spaced on the two plaster counters below the screens.
The traditional rhythm of lesson and response, coupled with diminishing light as each word was read, filled the room with a sober, respectful and expectant stillness. The musicians were amazing, echoing with rich, mournful sounds.
The light of the world is fading, the end has come. Jesus has passed through the pain of fear, of betrayal, of denial, of humiliation, of unjust accusation, of torture, of despair. Love is hung on a cross and left to die alone. Yet, at the end of it all, the valley of darkness has not been the valley of abandonment. The Father of Lights, the Father of Life, the Father is there, ready to receive this gift of love.
The room went dark as Don carried the still lit Christ candle out of the building, and the oboe and violin played, “Were You There?”Thanks be to God for his unspeakable gift.
