All Souls 2007

Remember, remember, the Fifth of November,
gunpowder, treason and plot.
I see no reason why gunpowder treason
should ever be forgot.

In England it’s almost impossible to walk to an All Souls night service without sniffing woodsmoke in the air and without hearing the crackle of fireworks far away (or not so far away). Up and down the country people are gathering around bonfires in remembrance of the great conspiracy of 1605.

At the heart of the celebrations are the fireworks, the wonderful combinations of light and sound that entrance both young and old. Their colours light up the night sky; their warmth drives away the seasonal chill; their fizz and sparkle thrill our hearts. And yet, when morning comes, all that is left are the empty cases and cartridges, their bright colours charred and their purpose spent.

Remember, remember. That is why we are here, of course, and as we remember those we love but see no longer the image of fireworks is powerful. The lives of the departed once lit up our skies; the warmth of their company banished our loneliness; the fact of their presence brought joy and meaning to our days. For we who are left behind it is difficult to avoid the sense that this and every day is the morning after Bonfire Night, when the colours of the night before have faded, the rapturous excitement has been banished, and all seems quiet and somehow empty.

Remember, remember. Around the bonfires we remember the story of Guy Fawke. Around the altar we remember the story of Jesus Christ. Around the bonfires we enjoy hot-dogs and baked potatoes. Around the altar we break bread and pour out wine, and around the altar there is never an empty and joyless morning after, for we take bread and wine in the faith that they will bear for us Christ’s living presence.

The remembering we do around the altar is a different sort of remembering, for the one we remember is not trapped by the chains of history. He is here in our midst, and when we gather around his altar we gather with all who have sought him and served him in every age and place. Around his altar heaven and earth are one, and we are one with those we love, because they are one with him.

Remember, remember. Ten years after the discovery of the Gunpowder Plot Richard Baxter was born. His are the words with which I will close. The rhyme with which I began urges us to remember. Baxter tells us how.
As for my friends, they are not lost;The several vessels of thy fleet,Though parted now, by tempests tost,Shall safely in the haven meet.Still we are centred all in thee,Members, though distant, of one head;In the same family we be,By the same faith and spirit led.Before thy throne we daily meetAs joint-petitioners to thee;In spirit we each other greet,And shall again each other see.The heavenly hosts, world without end,Shall be my company above;And thou, my best and surest friend,Who shall divide me from thy love?
Amen.
The Eucharist of All Souls, Friday 2 November 2007