Another cold bright sunny day for our walk to St Catherine's for the Easter Day Eucharist. I remembered last year, alone in the Chaplaincy House in Ibiza, no congregation to respond to the Easter acclamations, no sharing of Communion, just the trusted words of the liturgy to run through in prayer, having uploaded an audio file of the same, and an Easter video greeting the night before. Such a unique experience, being compelled by circumstances to do without what matters most to me in my life of faith. Nevertheless, it was an experience I'm grateful to have had. For all I know it's one I may have to repeat some time, but if so, the essential truth of the Lord's words to St Paul are there for perpetual reassurance: "My grace is sufficient for thee."
There were fifty of us in church, including ten children. What a blessing! That's as good a congregation as any that we had last year before lock-down resumed, and a testimony to the determination of of our faithful members to make church part of their New Normal. Semana Santa in Malaga in 2018, we were a handful on Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, while there were half a million on the streets. In 2014 at Christmas in Taormina, we were eight I think.
They were strange experiences of ministry, while being aware of UK parishes with no priest to accompany worshippers in Holy Week, but could summon up many more for services if there were any. But priests have no choice about numbers attending, and must not worry about this or the circumstances. You serve wherever you're planted, for the sake of those who'll gather there. That's all there is to it.
With some nervousness and difficulty, I managed to record tomorrow's Morning Prayer but wasn't satisfied with the result. I know I can do better but achieving that takes more time than I have today. It takes time to get used to the very precise routine of producing what's needed, and invariably I forget in between assignments. The last few days have just been too busy to get ready properly.
After lunch, with a glass of an excellent Ribera del Duero to wash it down with, we drove to Lavernock and walked down to the beach. It was low tide and it was just turning, so that off-shore there small waves were breaking without moving forward. An intriguing sight. We took Owain back to the station to catch a train back to Bristol, and then the whole family was re-united in a Zoom call, organised by Kath. The next Zoom call will be on my birthday, a week from now.
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