Attending to Gethsemane

If I were to say that the main focus of my day today has been the Garden of Gethsemane, you'd probably think I was incredibly pious and had spent the day on my knees. The truth, however, is rather more ordinary - though the end of the day was anything but. However, I was out this morning by 9.45am, not to shop but to meet Di and friend at a car park outside town. (Doesn't that sound mysterious?) We have discovered over the years that the bank above this particular car park is a wonderfully self-renewing source of sphagnum moss, great, loosely-attached clumps of it. That's what we were collecting this morning, along with a couple of baby conifers (really baby - less than a foot tall). Then it was back to my place for some coffee to fortify us for the next bit: creating a garden on top of the Lady Chapel altar (it's not been a Lady Chapel for decades, but old habits die hard...). Up at the church we spread decorator's dust-sheet (very fine plastic) over the polished wood, arranged the moss tastefully, stuck the wee trees into it, and found 11 candle-stubs to put in holders among the moss. Why eleven? In our minds they're the eleven disciples - Judas having snuck off to do his thing.

That done, it was off home for a heat and a meal, followed by intermittent dozing in an armchair. Suddenly the dull of the day so far was interrupted by a great shaft of sunlight, sunlight which eventually dragged me as far as the garden, where I was driven to attack the windows with water and Windolene. It actually felt quite warm ...

It wasn't warm in church this evening, however, where we went to the Maundy Thursday Eucharist. There the service ended, as is the custom, in some disarray, as the sanctuary was stripped of anything decorative, the Reserved Sacrament in its little silver dish moved to the mossy garden on the other altar, carried out to the solemn intoning of the psalm 22; the silent 45 minutes in front of the altar of repose - the mossy garden we'd worked on all morning. There was foot-washing, singing, silence. 

There was only a handful in church - about the same as the number of the disciples - but for what must be a first almost every one of them stayed to watch by the garden for a while, till 10pm.The candles flickered in the draught as we prayed. One candle was out - but we decided that was one of the frailer disciples who just couldn't keep his eyes open. And - please tell me if this is likely - in the candle-lit darkness (see first photo in collage) I swear I could see heat rising from our bodies, like curls of smoke  - or am I losing it? 

And now I can't keep my eyes open a moment longer. 

Two photos - one inside the church, with the Gethsemane altar and candles, one outside as we left in the darkness.