Yesterday (Good Friday, 2005) Jan and I attended a very moving service at Melbourne's Anglican Cathedral - St. Paul's. Situated on the corner of probably the busiest intersection in downtown Melbourne, this Cathedral is relatively young by world standards - a little over 150 years old (and being restored at present).

Why would this Baptist attend an Anglican Service? Lots of reasons: my wife suggested it; I'm a nonconformist 'on the Canterbury Trail' (vide Robert Webber) who enjoys escaping from the chaos of non-traditional church experiences; there were about 10x more Scriptures read - and sung - than would have been the case in an average Baptist or Pentecostal service; there was an experience of continuity with the church-of-tradition, and a connectedness with the church-universal; and I get connected also to a Big God in the ambience of great cathedrals.

We began with silence. (Many other churches sound like a chook-yard: in Americanese, choose a word that means 'chicken-house' or something), and we ended with silence, and silence was the suggested response at many points in the 1 hour 40 minute service. Silence is profound in cathedrals (if you can shut out the tram-noises).

We began with a sung prayer - still a little anachronistic to this nonconformist's ears :-). The O T reading (Isaiah 52:13 - 53:12) was brought by a reverent man with a hyphenated name. He concluded with 'Hear the Word of the Lord' and we responded 'Thanks be to God' (or at least I did). The choir chanted Psalm 22. A lady read 1 Corinthians 1:18-31, and then we sang a hymn composed by the great-aunt of a lady my clergy-spouse Jan buried a couple of weeks ago - Francis Alexander's 'There is a Green Hill Far Away'. And then of course we all stood for the sung/narrated Gospel (from John), in which the cantor-narrator 'old-fashioned' the last syllable in cri-ed, answer-ed, crucifi-ed, call-ed, and finish-ed.

The sermon was read (of course) and the preacher did not get too excited (there's still an antipathy towards 'enthusiasm' among most Anglicans), but his content was good. He began by informing us that this year the Annunciation and Good Friday fall on the same day - connecting Jesus' conception with his death.

This time of the year Melbourne sees greater crowds attending the Comedy Festival than attending churches, I would think. And the cross, the preacher said, is really a Divine Comedy - 'it's not farce, but rather there's the role reversal incarnated in the classical holy fool: who though foolish, is wise; though weak, is strong; who sees what no one else has seen, and speaks the unspeakable...' And the youngest choir-boys fidgeted in the front-row...

'Of all the thousands of crucifixions perpetrated by the Romans, we remember only this one... The God who is the light of a million suns throughout the universes has ordained that his Son dies like a fool on a hill. But the cross of Jesus is a sign of triumph and victory. Today around the world some (the rich) will celebrate this event with ornate crosses; the poor have their plastic Jesuses made of cheaper stuff.'

He reminded us of the mocking cartoon scratched on the wall of what may once have been a sort of Roman schoolroom. It shows a man with a donkey's head crucified on a T-shaped cross beside the awkwardly written words in Greek: "Alexamenos worships his God."'

'Remember the Beatles' song about Day after day alone on a hill, the man with the foolish grin is keeping perfectly still / But nobody wants to know him, they can see that he's just a fool, /And he never gives an answer /But the fool on the hill, sees the sun going down, and the eyes in his head /See the world spinning round - which blended into the preacher asking "Will you still need me, when I'm 64?" and we respond to the fool-on-the-cross "Yes, we will always need you, conquering Lord".

That's really a poor summary of a good sermon (how can you adequately scribble-precis the word-of-God preached when you're supposed to be learning and marking and inwardly digesting a love-communication from a Cross?).

During the offering we sang a great hymn 'My Song is Love Unknown' (a Pentecostal pastor would have commented about 'hearing the offering' :-) and then we prayed two pages of The Great Intercessions. While we were kneeling the cantor's voice came from behind us - 'Behold the wood of the cross on which was hung the Saviour of the world', to which we responded (on each of the three occasions as he carred a cross up the aisle) 'Come let us worship him'. And while the choir sang the beautiful, haunting Allegri Miserere, the congregation came in two's to kneel and pray briefly at the foot of the cross. As I knelt with Jan I prayed the Jesus prayer - 'Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, have mercy on me a sinner' (three times). We were sitting near the front, and noticed that the procession of solemn worshippers included Asians and Anglos, young and old, the well-heeled and a couple of bikies.

One change I would have made here: my cross would have been rough-hewn.

Preparing for communion the choir sang Mozart's Lacrymosa, and then we joined the responses... 'Save us and help us, we humbly beseech you O Lord... We look to you to save and help us', and then we knelt to sing meditatively the greatest hymn in the English language - When I survey the wondrous cross...' The time of eucharist was accompanied by the great Anglican communion hymn 'And now O Father mindful of the love...' (I can still recall the rich memory of hearing a magnificent choir singing this in Durham Cathedral in England).

At the conclusion a benediction and blessing, and the printed order of service invited us all to 'depart in silence and disarray'.

A footnote: I've had the privilege of preaching in a few Cathedrals (Sydney, Armidale, Sale come to mind), and guest-speaking at about 15 Anglican diocesan clergy conferences. On holidays I'm Anglican. My episcopal friends have bad and good experiences these days. Bad news: they're losing members and are a greying constituency (the cathedral on Good Friday was half-full), but there's still a resilience about Anglicanism which will fight ecclesiastical death, and they will continue to do with excellence what they do so well - perpetuating an age-old tradition, but in somewhat pc/modern dress (God was not too masculine, and sexist hymns were altered here and there; and the OT and Epistle readings were from - I think - the NRSV). I'm going back next year, even if the only thing they alter on the 12-page order of service is the year of our Lord 2005.

Shalom! Rowland Croucher