CHAPLAIN’S LETTER
Without Easter, Christianity would never have happened. If there had been no resurrection on Easter Day, then we would probably never have heard of Jesus of Nazareth. He would have disappeared from history like so many good and godly people in the past. There certainly wouldn’t be millions of people thinking about him today. That was the view of the great teacher Gamaliel when he told the leaders of the Jewish nation that if God wasn’t behind the Christian movement then it would fizzle out, like so many other religious and political movements in the past (Acts 5.34-39).
So, if Jesus had died on the cross and nothing more had happened, then the day on which he died would never have come to be known as Good Friday. His death on a cross would simply have been remembered as a disastrous end to a beautiful life. For Jesus to be executed by crucifixion was in any case a terrible miscarriage of justice, because the Gospel writers make it clear that Jesus was innocent of all the charges that were brought against him. None of the evidence stacked up, and he was eventually condemned for blasphemy only by being forced to give evidence against himself. If that is how things had ended, then the death of Jesus of Nazareth would have been one more example of humanity’s inability to tolerate too much truth and goodness, and we would mourn his death as we mourn the death of Socrates.
The fact that we call the day of Jesus’ death Good Friday tells us something about the importance of Easter. It basically says that the resurrection was God’s acceptance of Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross. Without the resurrection the cross would continue to be nothing more than a monument to human folly, injustice and cruelty. But put the cross with the resurrection and one dares to believe that his blood was shed so that we could be forgiven. St Paul worked all this out a long time ago. Here are some verses from his first letter to the Corinthians chapter 15.
“I passed on to you what was most important and what had also been passed on to me. Christ died for our sins, just as the Scriptures said. He was buried, and he was raised from the dead on the third day, just as the Scriptures said. He was seen by Peter and then by the Twelve. After that, he was seen by more than 500 of his followers at one time, most of whom are still alive, though some have died.
(verses 3-6)
“If Christ has not been raised, then your faith is useless and you are still guilty of your sins. In that case, all who have died believing in Christ are lost! And if our hope in Christ is only for this life, we are more to be pitied than anyone in the world. But in fact, Christ has been raised from the dead. He is the first of a great harvest of all who have died”. (verses 17-20)
HAPPY EASTER!
Fr John
CHILDRENS TRINITY CLUB CORNER
Hi there! Spring has been creeping up on us slowly, despite the long cold Winter, and here we are in April and know from the light and the bird-song and the growth all around us that Spring has really sprung and we look forward to the wonder of Easter.
Last month we reported that the CTC team would be working through the life of David with the children and will continue on that course after Easter. CTC will be busy with the Easter project outlined in the ‘Vertel het Maar’ material and called ‘Levensweg’. It is based on Luke’s gospel about the reconciliatory suffering of Jesus through which we receive everlasting life. This is a powerful basis from which ‘Vertel Het Maar’ have created a very workable project. CTC will also be able to make use of the illustrations and the ‘vertelbord’ on VHM’s website.
There will most probably be the traditional Easter Garden session for the children during the Easter morning service when, under guidance, a beautiful natural garden is build up on a base, with the three crosses ‘on a green hill far away’ – and the garden with cave tomb where Jesus’ body was laid and all this in a setting of abundant Spring flowers and twigs. It all takes place in the parsonage and if it’s anything like last year, will be a lot of fun with some great teamwork going on. The end result is laid out where it can be admired as people come in for Easter coffee which we hope you all will.
It only remains for CTC to wish you a blessed Easter and hopefully the sun will shine and we can all wander into our beautiful church garden!
Nicky for CTC
Pam’s Young Peoples’ Group will be pausing to consider “What is the Point of Lent” in their 13th March session before continuing with their theme of thinking about the last week of Jesus earthly life.
CELEBRATING EASTER - ANOTHER WAY
On 24th April, 0.30 am (!), the Student Chaplaincy is organizing an Easter Vigil in the Janskerk (at Janskerkhof in the centre of Utrecht). The theme is: Believing the Unbelievable. During the night there will be time for silence, music, words and worship. The night ends with celebrating the first light of Easter Day on Domplein (with all the bells of the Dom tower tolling) and a breakfast.
Everyone who is a student (or feels like one!) is warmly invited to join. It would be great to attend this event with a group from Holy Trinity. If you are interested in this way of greeting the risen Lord, please contact me!
Annelies
PRAYER CHAIN
If you have any requests for the prayer chain, or if you feel called to take part in this ministry, please contact Anne Miechielsen
ROYAL MAUNDY HONOURS FOR FORTY MEN AND WOMEN FROM THE DIOCESE
The Diocese in Europe has been chosen to take part in the Royal Maundy service at Westminster Abbey this year. The bishops have been invited to nominate people to receive the gift of specially minted Maundy money and invitations will be going soon to twenty men and twenty women who have made significant contributions to the life of the Church and of the local community.
The Bishop of Gibraltar in Europe, Rt Rev Dr Geoffrey Rowell, says “It is a great honour and delight that, for the first time in the history of the Royal Maundy, the Diocese in Europe has been asked to nominate recipients for the Maundy Thursday Service which fortuitously coincides with Her Majesty’s 85th Birthday.”
The number of recipients is related to the Sovereign's age, so this year there will be 85 male and 85 female recipients. Westminster Abbey will nominate half of the recipients and the other half are nominated by the Diocese in Europe and by the Diocese of Sodor and Man (which covers the Isle of Man). Incidentally, it means that the smallest and largest of the 44 dioceses in the Church of England are honoured together.
The event on 21st April will be broadcast live on BBC 1 television and takes place just 8 days before the wedding of Prince William and Catherine Middleton. The Maundy Thursday custom dates back to the Middle Ages when English monarchs washed the feet of beggars, following the example of Christ’s washing his disciples´ feet at the Last Supper, before his crucifixion on Good Friday.
The name “Maundy” is generally believed to derive from the “mandatum” (instruction) of Jesus for his followers to serve others. Maundy money is struck in denominations of one, two, three and four pence. On one side is a picture of the Queen and on the reverse is a number, under a crown, enclosed by a wreath, a design which has been used since the 1820´s.
© Diocese in Europe, used with permission
‘WIKILEAKS’ FOR CHOIRS (III): THE FRENCH CONNECTION
The Eglise Wallon was the first immigrant church in Utrecht. Refugees from the French speaking part of Belgium fled to the Netherlands in 1583 and settled here. A second wave came after Louis XIV revoked the Edict of Nantes in 1685. This led to Huguenots fleeing here with their businesses.
Like the Anglican church in Utrecht, they appoint their own minister, usually from France or from French speaking parts of the world. The current Pastor, Leila Hamrat, is of Algerian origin and had been the minister in the French church in London. Her international and multicultural background appeals to her congregation in Utrecht, which consisting largely of older Francophiles and people from the French speaking parts of Africa.
The choir of the Wallonian church rehearses every Saturday but only occasionally sings in the services. They usually sing some Geneva hymns, psalms and for an anthem they select from various sources, ranging from Haydn to modern day composers like Gert Oost even though some of the music does not particularly seem to chime with the Protestant spirit of this church. The first elders and deacons of the church would have frowned upon Cesar Franck’s “Panis Angelicus” being sung during communion, but the world has moved on since then.
Why is a self-confessed Anglophile teaming up with a bunch of Francophiles you may wonder? Well, I wasn’t exactly parachuted into this choir in Utrecht, like Officer Crabtree from the sitcom “Allo, allo”. There was a time when the choirs of the Anglican church and of the Wallonian church held joint Advent services. My attempts to speak French have largely been ignored. Only when the choir went on an outing to a village in the Alsace did I think that my French would be tested to the limit, only to find out that I could get away with speaking German, because as you may know this region once belonged to Germany.
Seated between a Taizé brother and a retired Dutch minister in the choir the mood is rather contemplative. Their comment on my singing in three choirs was: “he wants to serve three servants of the Lord,” (the Taizé brother); “he wants to be omniscient!” (the retired minister).
Despite the number of over 60s in the choir, it is not like a decaying old folk’s home – quite the contrary, they sometimes have more stamina than younger and fitter people. Last year the choir went to Paris to sing in the Oratoire du Louvre, the former royal chapel of Louis XIV and handed over to the Protestants by Napoleon. The church stands opposite the former palace of the French king and is completely dwarfed by it. It still cherishes its royal connections: members of the congregation told us that Queen Beatrix would come and worship there during a state visit. We thought that everything had been arranged for our visit but the severe looking French minister and the verger treated us with cold indifference: they had no idea that we were coming! They began laying down rules for us: the anthem was not to last longer than one minute and the hymns were not to have more than three verses. In spite of this we tried to behave “in a true Christian manner” by simply ignoring it! We were whisked away to the organ loft out of sight of the minister and the congregation. But the conductor played her cards right. The choir sang a psalm composed by Gert Oost, originally set in Dutch but translated into French. Now the chances of a Dutch choir, let alone from a French or English speaking church, performing a Dutch work abroad are about as slim as Mother Theresa having attended a Rolling Stones concert. The conductor had also managed to lay her hands on a relatively unknown choral piece by an English composer who had set a text by John Calvin to music.
Apart from that, Paris was like a school outing. The French minister who was with us at the time affectionately referred to the choristers as her “precious goats”. Those goats skidded off to art galleries, exhibitions, cafes and restaurants and some of them could handle quite a skin-full during lunch- and dinnertime. But the
“goats” stuck together like a closely-knit family where no one was allowed to wander off on his own for long.
During breakfast before that Sunday morning service we all got the giggles and our minister said: “You’d better behave!”. The organist of the Wallonian choir was only just allowed to play the organ but had to perform under the scrutinizing eye of the resident organist who stayed in the organ loft with us to check that we followed the minister’s instructions. When he heard something he didn’t like he shook his head disapprovingly and made indignant gestures. When the last notes died away an eerie silence followed. Suddenly we heard people coming up the steps. Was it the French minister coming to rebuke us for ignoring his instructions? To our surprise, there were several people coming up to ask us about the choral pieces. Downstairs, the choir was met by several members of the congregation who said how much they had enjoyed the music. Some of these comments were quite touching.
Somehow the Spirit had spoken to us through the words of the sermon, which had been about the New Jerusalem where angels welcome the entry of all good Christian people sharing their faith in Jesus Christ. Something of that spirit was reflected in our encounter with members of the congregation.
Arnold
SPRING CLEANING? MOVING HOUSE?
If you have small items of furniture or other household goods that you no longer need, please talk to Pam or email her at pamandjohn@holytrinityutrecht.nl . She is making a list of items to offer to a young mother and her two children as they set up their own home for the first time.
A WORD FROM ST AMBROSE TO THE RICH AND WEALTHY
How far can you take this mad acquisitiveness, you rich? Will you make yourselves the only inhabitants of the earth? Why grasp at nature’s possessions, and keep nature’s companions at bay? The earth was created for all in common, rich and poor alike. Why arrogate to yourselves a sole and exclusive right? Nature knows no rich men; she makes us all poor at birth. We are born without clothing, given life without gold and silver. We are brought forth naked to the light, in need of food, clothing and drink. And naked as it produced us the earth receives us back, and can accommodate no broad landholdings in the grave. The narrow covering of turf is room enough for poor and rich alike; clay, which had no hold on the rich man’s affections while he lived, holds the whole of him at the last. Nature makes no distinctions, either when we are born or when we die. It creates us all equals; as equals it enfolds us all in the grave’s embrace. Who can tell the classes of dead men apart? Open up the earth and find the rich man if you can. Clear up the graves a little after burial, and if you identify the subject as a poor
man, prove it. Perhaps you can prove it by this one fact, that there is more junk rotting beside a rich man.
Riches are good things for whoever knows how to use them properly, but evil things for whoever does not. They are good things if you give them to the poor; by doing this you make God your debtor by a kind of pious loan. The hearts of the needy, the homes of widows, the mouths of children are your repositories, so that they may say to you: “Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings thou hast perfected praise” (Ps. 8:2). These are the storehouses which will stand for ever, the granaries which future prosperity will not tear down.
God gives you prosperity, either to overcome or to condemn your greed, so that you may have no excuse. Whatever you give to a poor man is for your good; whatever you lay out makes an increase for you. Compassion is sown in the earth, and buds in heaven; it is planted in the poor man, and blossoms before the face of God. To sum it up, Scripture says: “sow for yourselves righteousness (Hos. 10:12). Be a spiritual farmer! Sow what bring in a yield. There is good tillage in the hearts of widows. If the earth gives more fruit back than you put in, how many more times over will the interest on compassion return your capital.
(From The Story of Naboth, in: A Sourcebook in Christian Political Thought; used with permission)
global metaphor
the
earth
turns
on
an
axis
of
but
a
few
words:
we
are
here
to
care
for
each
other
Oeke Kruythof
Jenny Narraway
translation/transcreation
MILK PACKAGING
In the Green Awareness Group we discussed the use of packaging. One of the items was milk packaging. M.I. Rigter, a member of the group did some research in this field. The outcome was that plastic bottles made of polycarbonate, which had already been introduced in 1995, are better for the environment because:
They can be reused several times.
For normal milk packaging paper, aluminium and plastic is used. After use, most packaging is incinerated. In this way, the valuable raw materials, plastic and aluminium, are thrown away after using them only once.
The recycling of normal milk packaging, although technically possible, is not usually done and if it is, it costs a lot of energy.
In some shops, plastic bottles for dairy products are still available. An inventory of this form of packaging showed that Campina, Arla and Friesche Flag can still deliver it, but it is not usually available the shops because consumers do not ask for it.
You can stop the misuse of disposable milk packaging, by asking the manager of your local shop to stock milk from Campina, Friesche Vlag and Arla in plastic bottles (and afterwards, of course, by buying it). In particular, you can ask for eco-milk and eco-yoghurt in this form of packaging. This is our Consumer Power!
Another possibility is to phone the ‘Friesche Vlag consumenten lijn’, free telephone number 0800 23 52 752, and ask them to use more re-useable plastic bottles for dairy products.
For more information about the polycarbonate bottle:
http://melkvervoervanvroegertotnu.magix.net/website/einde_zutrans_en_wagenpark.15.html#15
Maarten Rigter
UNDER HIS WINGS
An article in National Geographic several years ago provided a penetrating picture of the Lord’s love for us ...
After a forest fire in Yellowstone National Park, forest rangers began their trek up a mountain to assess the inferno's damage.
One ranger found a bird literally petrified in ashes, perched statuesquely on the ground at the base of a tree. Somewhat sickened by the eerie sight, he knocked over the bird with a stick. When he struck it, three tiny chicks scurried from under their dead mother's wings. The loving mother, keenly aware of impending disaster, had carried her offspring to the base of the tree and had gathered them under her wings, instinctively knowing that the toxic smoke would rise. She could have flown to safety but had refused to abandon her babies. When the blaze had arrived and the heat had scorched her small body, the mother had remained steadfast. Because she had been willing to die, those under the cover of her wings would live...
Psalm 91:4 "He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler."
Praise the Lord for his goodness and protection for all those who put their trust in him.
HOLY LAND TRIP: EARLY AFTERNOON DAY 2 ...
When we reached the end of the road at the foot of the Mount of Olives there was a small porch on the left that gave access to the Garden of Gethsemane. The sight of the garden was both breath-taking and disappointing. Breath-taking were the centuries old olive trees, so massive that some of them might even be older than 2000 years; maybe they were already there when Christ was in this garden and maybe He touched one of them. Disappointing was the size of the garden. What is left of it is really tiny (I had expected a much bigger garden) and it was crammed with tourist. The olive trees are protected by a fence all around and we had to stand on our toes to get a glimpse of them over the heads of all the other people there. To one side of the garden there is a very large church: Church of All Nations. Inside it is very spacious and it was quiet, as there were only a few visitors. The Church of All Nations is officially called the Basilica of the Agony. This Catholic Church enshrines a section of stone in the Garden of Gethsemane that is believed to be where Jesus prayed on the night of his arrest (Matthew 26:36).
After a quick last look at the olive trees in the Garden of Gethsemane we walked to another church close by: the Tomb of the Virgin. Broad stairs lead to a large underground hall, lit by many coloured oil lamps, where the supposed tomb is situated. But biblical accounts provide no information about the end of Mary's life or the place of her burial. A number of places have claimed the honour, including Ephesus in Turkey. Traditions about Mary's burial in this area of Jerusalem may be as old as the 2nd or 3rd century. Such traditions became stronger in the 5th century, when the claims of Ephesus were strongly disputed.
By the time we had finished sightseeing this last church it was lunchtime and Nasser (our bus driver) drove us uphill through the outskirts of Jerusalem to a Greek monastery where there is a big restaurant catering for touring car tourists. The food in Jerusalem (actually in the whole of Israel) is really good: lots of different fresh salads, falafel, humus, bread, rice, pastas and a choice of chicken, beef and fish. Following a great lunch we climbed back onto the bus and went to the Lion’s Gate (one of the entrances in the wall to the Old Town). The bus parked outside the gate (busses can’t go into the Old Town) and we continued on foot to the Ecce Homo Convent on Via Dolorosa. In a chapel inside this convent we celebrated mass as a start to a walk through the old streets of Jerusalem, passing all the Stations of the Cross, carrying a large wooden cross and reminiscing Christ carrying His cross to Golgotha.
To be continued...
Madeleine
HARD CHOICE AT SEA
After a few of the usual Sunday evening hymns, the vicar welcomed a guest preacher, an old childhood friend. With that, an elderly man stepped up to the pulpit to speak:
"Some years ago a father, his son, and a friend of his son were sailing off the British coast,” he began, "when a fast approaching storm blocked any attempt to get back to shore. The waves were so high, that even though the father was an experienced sailor, he could not keep the boat upright, and the three were swept into the ocean."
The elderly preacher hesitated for a moment, making eye contact with two teenagers near the back. For the first time since the service began, they looked vaguely interested. He continued, "Grabbing a rescue line, the father had to make the most excruciating decision of his life ... to which boy he would throw the other end of the line. He only had seconds to make the decision. The father knew that his son was a Christian, and he also knew that his son's friend was not. The agony of his decision could not be matched by the torrent of waves. As the father yelled out, 'I love you, son!' he threw the line to his son's friend. By the time he pulled the friend back to the capsized boat, his son had disappeared beyond the raging swells into the black of night. His body was never recovered."
By this time, the two teenagers were sitting straighter in the pew, aghast at what they’d just heard.
"The father," he continued, "knew his son would step into eternity with Jesus, and he could not bear the thought of his son's friend stepping into an eternity without Jesus. Therefore, he sacrificed his son. How great is the love of God that he should do the same for us." With that, the old man turned and sat back down in his chair as silence filled the room.
Within minutes after the service ended, the two teenagers were at the old man's side. "That was a weird story," ventured one of the boys. “No really loving father would ever do that, though, give up his son's life just on the hope that the other boy would become a Christian."
"Well," the old man replied, glancing down at his worn Bible. A smile broadened his narrow face, and he admitted, “it sure isn't very usual, is it? But I told you that story tonight because it not only shows what it must have been like for God to give up his Son to die for us, but because the story is true – you see, I was the son’s friend.”
FLEETING SHOW
This world is all a fleeting show,
For man’s illusion given -
The smiles of joy, the tears of woe,
Deceitful shine, deceitful flow
There’s nothing true but heaven.
By Thomas More
While clearing out Jamie’s papers, I came across some of his tales from our days in Amsterdam, so here, unexpectedly, another amusing report from Jamie.
OF ONIONS AND PRINCESSES (1990)
We actually know a real live Russian princess (see Feb Newsletter). Now, like all good Russian princesses, she is out of work, in the princess line that is. But now that they have started all this glasnost stuff, she and a small group from the Russian Orthodox church in The Hague have been invited to Russia. As the trip was being paid for by the Russian government, they are flying Aeroflot. This, coupled with the date of the trip, Friday the 13th, meant that a quick prayer meeting in the Russian church seemed like a good idea. Harry and I were invited, not so much for the prayer meeting but for the bun fight that would follow; it was also the princess’ birthday party.
She had invited us personally and told us that the prayer meeting would be at 13:00 on Saturday and the party would follow immediately afterwards in the Presbytery. She reckoned that by 13:15 it would be party time. She also added that there were Russian refugees currently living in the basement of the presbytery and they could do with some clothes; if we had any to spare could we bring them along. “Fair enough” I said and hit the wardrobe with a vengeance.
Now when it comes to clothes Harry is a bit of a squirrel but eventually I managed to convince him that he was not losing clothes but gaining valuable wardrobe space. We produced two heaps of assorted clothes and Harry was volunteered to run them through the washing machine on the grounds that, although I can fix computers, I’m not to be trusted near a washing machine on account of the terrible tale of the pink underwear, for the telling of which the world in not yet ready. We packed the clean clothes into two old sports bags.
Saturday arrived and we got our suits out of mothballs - for the uninitiated, suits don’t half impress out-of-work Russian princesses – and set off for The Hague. I was driving; Harry was navigating. Now every time he does, he learns something new about maps. This time he learned the meaning of the little arrows on the streets pointing in the opposite direction from the way you want to go. So, by the time we had got through the one-way system, and restored diplomatic relations, it was well past 13:15 so we went directly to the presbytery and rang the bell. There was a deadly silence as, no doubt, the refugees cowered in the basement, convinced that the KGB was without. Since it was pouring with rain, we lugged the two bags round the corner to the church.
Now the Russian Orthodox church in The Hague has a distinctly persecuted air about it. It is a little building with only one very small up-turned golden onion on the top. You get the feeling that it really wants to be about the size of St Paul’s and have enough onions to start its own chip shop. It also has a VERY small foyer. Harry opened the door and entered. I, like a fool, followed. The prayer meeting was not over, in fact it was in full swing and didn’t we put everybody off their stroke by arriving with two large bags right in the middle of it. Harry was
paralyzed and I was stuck half in and half out, until I kicked him and managed to get in and shut the door.
I’ve noticed that every denomination has its good and bad points. The Church of Scotland could be defined as sedentary – the most you ever do is stand for the hymns. In comparison the Russian orthodox is positively callisthenic: when you are not bowing, genuflecting or prostrating yourself on the floor you are crossing yourself, oh and everyone stands because there are no seats!
Now the priest doesn’t so much speak as chant and this one had a very theatrical voice – he knew how to project – and very impressive it was too! In between the chanting and the crossing yourself came the responses sung by the choir. This included a rather large lady with a very mobile face and a huge bottom. Every time she sang she looked like a cartoon goose with her face contorted for the words, her head pushed forward and her backside thrust well back, swinging majestically from side to side with the music.
Eventually the service ground to a close and the entire congregation kissed everything that didn’t move and we all set off to the presbytery via the back of the church. Once there, we dropped the bags in a corner and the priest seemed to be taken by the fact that we were donating the bags as well. Everyone else had brought their contribution in rubbish bags. I wonder why I never thought of that. The priest also used up his entire English and Dutch vocabulary by saying “welcome” and then “welkom”. Harry, who is currently brushing up his French, discovered that they had a common language, for about 20 words each!
It was obvious that someone was going to say a prayer, but there seemed no great rush to say it. Everyone was bobbing up and down and rushing in and out of the room and we were seated opposite a colour photo of Genghis Khan in a frock. I commented on this to Harry who pointed out that it was a photo of the “old Metropolitan”. I said that I always thought that was a hotel so he kicked me under the table. Grace was eventually said, well it was sung actually, with the dear old goose lady wobbling like a jelly. I thought that if she ever hit the resonant frequency of the building we would be sitting in a pile of rubble. The meal proceeded in a curious way with regular interruptions from a TV travelogue of Russian churches, interspersed with a commentary, in Russian, from the priest. Everyone still kept getting up and down and moving about. At the opposite end of the table there was a young girl who was moving food in a most impressive way. From the moment the last echoes of the grace faded, she did a sort of production line: her mouth was never empty and she restocked every time the previous load was half swallowed. This went a long way to explaining her girth.
Eventually we made the right noises and started our exit. On the way out, I noticed two large cabinets full of glasses. I commented on how many there were and Harry said that he thought this was because they all chucked them into the fireplace after every toast. “I suppose they buy seconds in bulk, like the Greek restaurants buy their plates.
“’xpect you’re right” agreed Harry and we left.
Jamie
Services at Holy Trinity Church, Utrecht
Previous Newsletters
Jan '11 | Feb '11 | Mar '11 | Apr '11 | May '10 | Jun '10 | Jul '10 | Aug '10 | Sep '10 | Oct '10 | Nov '10 | Dec '10