Holy Week & Easter At Wenchoster

From the Pharisaios Journal:

Mark, Chapter 16 (The Codex Codpiecium. Translated from the Latin.)
And lo! The day after the Sabbath, Mary Magdalene, (1) and yet another Mary, and Salome (no, not that one) (2) brought a selection of balms, and came they unto the garden. And it was exceeding dark, and slippery. And behold, they sat on an rock and waited for the sun to rise. And at the appointed hour it verily did. And it came to pass that, squinting, came they unto the tomb. Now they were sorely troubled, for they knew of the stone which had been placed diligently at the entrance to the tomb, for it was a whopper and exceeding heavy, with rough edges. And lo! They looked, and behold the stone was rolled back. And it was so. Then entered they into the tomb and saw a youth, fair of face and limbs, dressed in white. And he was amazing (3). And he did wink, and saith he unto them, “You’ve just missed Him. He is not here. He arose early and said something about getting unto Galilee before you.” And lo! The women ran out quivering deeply, and said nothing, for they were sore afraid. Verily.
Footnotes:
(1) Yes, that one.
(2) Early manuscripts omit this comment.
(3) Here the text is unclear and rather shaky.

A little different, but I like it. Verily.
An excerpt from "Word From Wormingdale" by Canon Daphne Pullover. At one of the Compline services, the canon read from the diary of the Rev. Truegood, who served at Wormingdale in the 19th century.

CANON PULLOVER MUSES ON THE FLEETING NATURE OF HOLY WEEK
On Good Friday, Truegood went to the church and discovered what Mrs Greyflood had done to the font: “The wooden cover was removed, and in the ancient stone bowl was placed a china chamber full of flowers in water, the whole surrounded by flowers all wild, primroses, violets, wood anemones, wood sorrel, periwinkles, oxlips and brilliant yellow daffodils, all laid upon ferns, with larch sprays drooping over the brim. Around the base were laid bands of ivy and moss.” Truegood was so enraged by this desecration of the holy basin that he scooped up all the flowers and flung them out of the church door, from whence Mrs Greyflood ran screaming to her husband, a former prize-fighter and champion of the Wenchoster Fights of 1817. It was only the presence of the churchwardens that prevented a bloodbath of epic proportions when the angry husband arrived to deal with “that blasted vicar!”

Read the rest of Canon Pullover's musings at Word from Wormingdale. Click and scroll down.
And last, but not least, a word from Bishop Codpecium himself.

Hello! You know, Easter for me is a tame of anticipat-i-on after what hes been a lawng Lint. Es we awl troop through Holy Week we cen feel secure in the knowledge thet there are certain things to which we cen look forward. After the gloom end desperat-i-on of Good Frayday the late of the Paschal Ceremonies brings much joy. Plunging the incense grains deep into the cendle awlways gives me a Passover thrill. Cerrying the cendle aloft dine the nave end singing “The Late of Christ,” the hot wex dripping over may fingers; soaring tribles in the Exultet; the flush of the asperges end the scent of finest grains in the thurible. Awl these are things of the senses end cen be expected over the feast. Then there are the more earthy celebrat-i-ons: Large gins in the study after Hay Marss, luncheon with the Dean (who awlways produces a fane chocolate pudding garnished with candy balls end chocolate chicks) end getting on one’s hends end knees with the cwar boys to hunt for Easter eggs in the thickets behained the Pelace. Ah, Paschal bliss indeed! May we awl come to shar in the Resurrect-i-on this Easter, end lake Mary be amazed in the garden!
Bliss you awl!
+ Roderick Codpiecium

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