The Service:

Spoken welcome to the worship and learn new hymn

Guided Mediatation
An extempore spoken meditation allowing people to relax, be still and be aware of god’s presence. These often involve breathing exercises, (see: resources: body prayers)

Peter’s Story : gethsemane
[written for two voices: peter and jesus]

After the meal we went to Gethsemane, where we often went to get some sleep. This time, some settled down amongst the olive trees whilst James, John and I walked with Jesus as he spoke with us.

“My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death.
Stay here and keep watch with me.”

As we sat down to wait for him I watched him walk a little further and fall to the ground to pray.

“My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me.
Yet not as I will, but as you will.”

Maybe it was the meal, or more likely all the wine we’d drunk, but one moment I was watching and praying for him, then next thing he was shaking me awake.

“Could you men not keep watch with me for one hour? Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the body is weak.”

I felt so bad, like I’d let him down at the time when he was troubled - when he really needed a friend to be there for him. I rubbed my eyes and sat up straight as he walked a little distance away to pray again. But I was weak, and tired and a little drunk and I slept whilst this man who I loved struggled and called out to his Father. I don’t know if Jesus came back to find us sleeping again and let us rest, but when he woke me again, the first light of day was showing over the hills sillhoutting a large crowd gathering amongst the trees.

“Are you still sleeping and resting? Look, the hour is near, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Rise, let us go! Here comes my betrayer!”

And bleary-eyed and hungover I stumbled into the blackest day of my life.

Sung Chant
Taize chant: “Stay with me, remain here with me, watch and pray, watch and pray”

Confession
A series of projected images, a mix of contemporary scenes and images portraying events from gethsemane to crucifixion. A spoken introduction began the confession:

We bring our hurts, our sin, the black times in our life
we bring them to God.
Use this time, this space, these images, this music to offer your own prayer:
The prayer of a heart open to the redemptive love of God.

Absolution
During which the glass of water was tipped into the empty bowl

Be healed
Be set free
Be calm and know peace
Be washed in the love of Christ
Feel the Spirit dance in your soul
You are a child of God.

Pslam 42

Hymn: Virgin Nature

Intro to ritual
Large nails are handed out and the forthcoming ritual explained.

Peter’s Story : golgotha
[written for three voices: peter, jesus and a third voice to read the last sentence]

As they led him through the streets stumbling under the weight of the rough cross, I watched from the cool safety of the morning shadows and asked - why?

As children danced along behind him and women beat their chests and wailed, I kept quiet not wanting to be recognised again.

As Jesus stopped and spoke to the hysterical women I skulked in the semi-dark, desperately grabbing at any words I could hear, praying that he was telling them why.

“Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and your children”

As soldiers tore off his bloodstained clothes, as the crowd laughed at his nakedness, shouting out insults - caught along in the whole spectacle, I pretended to laugh along - but inside I was crying.

As they hoisted him up, I asked “Yahweh, my God, why?”
As I saw him raise his bleeding head and talk to one of the criminals they had crucified beside him, I imagined him explaining it all - to a common thief, and I cursed the thief out loud and people turned to look at me surprised by the venom in my voice.

When the spear went in his side I felt his heart break with mine, and though I watched from a distance, as he spoke his last words I was standing at his feet, and I leant forward to kiss them, my tears mixing with his blood.

“Father forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing”

And I said to him “Jesus, let us raise an army and slaughter these fools, let me pull out these nails and help you down and bind your wounds, so you can talk with us again, so you can explain all things to us and this time we’ll understand.”

“Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”

And beside me, a man I’d never seen before said the words I really needed to say

“Truly this man was God’s Son”

Ritual
The congregation have opportunity to take their nail and drop it into the bowl on the altar, the nails turn the water red as more are added.
(this happens because the nails have been dipped into red food dye before the servioce. this dries quickly but is activated by the water. it sounds a bit naff but in context is very effective and solemn)

Intercessions
Several areas around the main worship area had been turned into prayer stations on themes of suffering, sacrifice and redemption. Some featured prayer rituakls such as lighting a candles or writing a prayer. These could be visited or the main worship areas be used for prayer/meditation.

Sung chant
A reprise of the Taize chant announced that the service was drawing to a close and the congregation gathered for a spoken blessing.

Blessing

variation with bread and wine:
we think there were maybe two version of this service. the second version included sharing bread and wine immediately after the nails ritual. (the intercessions were probably ommitted).

the glass chalice that had contained water was filled with wine as bread was passed round. as the wine was passed the following meditation was spoken:

Hot blood, coursing through the veins.

The deafening din of a pounding heart.

Muscles and sinews stretch, stretch to breaking.

Every tip of nerve screams at breaking point.

Breath comes in piercing, dagger-thrust gasps.

Struggling to stay afloat.

The sea of emotion roars and rumbles around the void of an aching emptiness. Over the brink, it is swept away in total absorption, a blackness lost to the senses.

A bright spurt of blood leaps from the throbbing wound.

The prickle of sweat driven deep into furrowed brow.

The whole body tenses, an involuntary spasm, slowly to relax as the rigour seeps in.

Coldness, clamminess.

The pallor of death when the anguish subsides.

Suffering squeezed, wrung out and poured into a vessel.

In the sweet clarity, the distillation of ecstasy.

Hard nails of agony grate in the dregs.

What cup can contain such extremes of experience and not warp in the heat or shatter in the cold?

Drink, drink deep to the end.

Drain the mixture in one, all-encompassing draught.

Lift it high -
and then, in the reflection,
see my face.

Hugh Houghton 2000

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