Author Archives: Gillian

Alleluia, He is Risen!

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Every year that I have been in Victoria for Easter, I have made the trek down to Cadboro Bay for The Place’s sunrise service. Easter morning sunrise services were something we used to do growing up and it is fun to go whenever I get the opportunity. As my friend Eric notes, it was raining this morning, making it fairly difficult to get up and out of bed. But that didn’t stop the 100 or so people who turned out at 6am. There were bonfires on the beach, and three driftwood crosses stuck into the sand. As it slowly got lighter, we sang songs celebrating the risen Lord and reflected on some passages of scripture.


I took this picture as the service was ending, it reminded me of one of the readings that morning, John 21 when the resurrected Jesus appears to his disciples along the seashore and enables them to catch a boatload of fish. After they have cooked the fish up on a fire, Jesus “reinstates” Peter.

Then I rushed back home to get ready (shower and rid myself of the smell of campfire) before heading down to the Cathedral for the Easter service this morning. We had helium balloons and chocolate! There was a fun energy about the service this morning, perhaps because of the tambourines and trumpet, perhaps because we were all excited. He is Risen, Alleluia!


As I sit here and reflect on the photos I have included with this post, it strikes me that they are so different yet so the same. One is celebrating the resurrection in the beauty and simplicity of the outdoors, God’s natural creation. It is cold, dark, and raining but that doesn’t dampen the spirits of those there to celebrate. The other is inside of one of the grandest churches in town with lofty ceilings and beautiful stained glass. However, the result is the same, a group of people gathered together to celebrate the resurrection and praise the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

Easter Vigil

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Easter began tonight.

The Easter Vigil Service I just came home from has possibly been my favourite service of Lent/Holy Week/Easter to date. It was a beautiful service. The first half was in darkness: all the lights were off inside of the Cathedral and the Pascal Candle was slowly brought into the nave. Everyone in the congregation had a candle and they were slowly lit from back to front as the cross moved forward. Our choir sang a beautiful song (in which the altos actually had a decent part!), “Holy Darkness” accompanied by the cello. I got chills in my spine.

Suddenly, half way through the service, the organ sounded the Gloria, the lights came on and bells were rung. I was given the drum to pound on (because apparently I am the resident percussionist?!?) and it was Easter!

The readings we read worked through the Old Testament story leading up to Jesus and were a really interesting selection. Then people were baptized and confirmed, we passed the peace and celebrated the Eucharist. I got a kick out of a look on one of the assisting priest’s face when Archbishop Hutchison switched to French halfway through the Eucharistic Prayer. Clearly what is normal in Montreal is somewhat out of the ordinary in Victoria!

Now the stage is set for the Sunrise service tomorrow morning. He is Risen, He is Risen Indeed!

Good Friday: Carrying the Cross

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This morning I walked around downtown for an hour with 30-40 other people from church. We drew looks from people as we went. Some were looks of shock, others surprise, confusion, and anger. A small number of people joined us more shouted mocking things from their car windows as they drove by. We were surrounded by the press at all times: at least two television stations and two newspapers were represented. I was interviewed.

So what were we doing to solicit all of these very mixed reactions? We were taking turns at carrying a 15 foot long wooden cross, stopping periodically to read passages from the gospels and Isaiah pertaining to the Passion of Jesus.

I read aloud a selection about how Jesus was mocked and beaten whilst standing on the corner of Government and Humboldt, kitty-corner to the tourist information centre. Despite using a megaphone, I was all but drowned out by the vehicles roaring by at 9:30am. Half past nine in the morning on Good Friday and downtown was already abuzz with traffic. No wonder we got so many confused looks. More frequently, we drew looks of anger from store keepers and we paused infront of their shop waiting for the light to turn. I wonder how many people actually knew the reason why they had a day off of work? As one of my fellow walkers said to me “Christians need to get out of the four walls of their buildings and be visible in the community more often.” Indeed.

I had an opportunity to carry the cross for a the last few blocks of our walk. I wasn’t going to but they needed someone to finish it up (sort of like Simon of Cyrene?) and the previously mentioned fellow-walker told me it was a moving experience. So I took the cross. I wasn’t anticipating it to feel as strange as it did. With a cross over one shoulder, I had limited mobility as it was difficult to turn around and see if the group was even still following me. I was all alone with a big hunk of wood on my shoulder. I felt more at the centre of things than I have in a long time: exposed. While I would not presume to compare my experience to that of Jesus’ in carrying his cross, I can understand a little more of how it felt. In those last two and a half blocks that I carried the cross I was isolated and alone. There was no one in my field of vision save the photographers that followed us relentlessly and all I could do was look ahead and focus on the destination.

This is the 23rd year that Christ Church has done this, but this year was one of the lowest turn outs yet. I wonder what this says about our priorities when there are more people shopping on Good Friday morning than there are at church.

Three Days

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Friday:

When you agree to be the mother of God
you make no conditions, no stipulations.
You flinch before neither cruel thorn nor rod.
You accept the tears; you endure the tribulations.

But, my God, I didn’t know if would be like this.
I didn’t ask for a child so different from others.
I wanted only the ordinary bliss,
to be the most mundane of mothers.

Saturday:

When I first saw the mystery of the Word
made flesh I never thought that in his side
I’d see the callous wound of Roman sword
piercing my heart on the hill where he died.

How can the Word be silenced? Where has it gone?
Where are the angel voices that sang at his birth?
My frail heart falters. I need the light of the Son.
What is this darkness over the face of the earth?

Sunday:

Dear God, He has come, the Word has come again.
There is no terror left in silence, in clouds, in gloom.
He has conquered the hate; he has overcome the pain.
Where, days ago, was death lies only an empty tomb.

The secret should have come to me with his birth,
when glory shone through darkness, peace through strife.
For every birth follows a kind of death,
and only after pain comes life.

– Madeleine L’Engle, The Ordering of Love