Second Sunday after Easter

Second Sunday after Easter. I went to 10.15 Holy Communion at a commuter village near the southern boundary of the county. The sun was already high in the sky and the temperature was hot.

The small picturesque church is on a little slope just outside the village, overlooking fields filled with horses. Running alongside the edge of the churchyard is a Roman canal, a noticeboard describing its importance (just as well there was a notice as otherwise I would have dismissed it as an uninteresting ditch). The church is dedicated to a Saxon saint, and much of the fabric of the building is Saxon, with Norman extensions and thirteenth-century embellishments.

Cruiform in shape, inside it was small but well-proportioned. Light poured into the building, in particular through the great east window. This window was filled with Victorian stained glass of indifferent quality, and in normal circumstances would have presented a flat appearance. However the strong sunlight pushing through the reds and blues created a dazzling effect, especially as the kaleidoscope-image of saints and holy scenes was projected onto the whitewashed north wall of the chancel. All through the service this shimmering light show continued its preternatural performance. My words are unable to describe the beauty of this light.

There was a fair attendance at the service. The choir was on tour, which caused problems with the hymn Oh For A Thousand Tongues To Sing (it has an antiphonal chorus, and left to themselves the congregation got lost). There was a stand-in priest which was a bit disappointing as I had wanted to see the female vicar (who is apparently so High she would be at home in Forward With Faith).

Lots of candles in the chancel, including an enormous Paschal candle - the sight of lit candles in bright sunshine had an unusual, radiant appearance.

In the sermon the stand-in priest talked about the road to Emmaeus, relating the incident to his personal experience. At the Peace everyone shook hands with everyone else in such a thorough way the central aisle was a circulating hubbub of people. At the Eucharist I knelt at the eighteenth-century barleysugar-balustraded communion rail surrounded by the coloured lights streaming down from the east.

Well-attended, well-run, aesthetically very fine.