Hove's Ecumenical Walk of Wintness on Good Friday

It was a cool and windy day with scudding clouds and sudden bursts of sunlight. We assembled in front of St John’s Anglican Church at Palmeira Square for the start at 11.00 am. There were over 150 people present - yes, I did a count - the majority being middle-aged and older, but with a substantial number of younger marchers, including some children, infants in wheelchairs - and three dogs.

I presume most of the marchers were Anglican as we began from and halted at three Anglican churches, but the Catholic Church and the United Reformed Church were also represented. I imagine the only thing we had in common is that we were all Christians.- with the exception of our four-legged friends. Mind you, it’s impossible to tell a Christian from appearance alone, I guess the behaviour should be a clue: friendly, kind, loving...so, maybe these well-behaved dogs were recent converts?

Anyway, the Rev. Paul Doick of St. John’s switched on his megaphone and, after the first Station of the Cross we set off in a long and straggly procession along Church Road.

If you have ever seen a ‘crocodile’ line of school children going on an outing, marshalled by their teachers, you will have some idea of our procession. However, it is also fair to say that we were not as disciplined at marching in step, or even walking side by side. On the other hand, we did walk in silence, very conscious that the walk itself was a witness to the public, a very small but important way of saying ‘He is risen, He is risen indeed – Alleluia!’

Our first stop was in front of the old and beautiful All Saints Anglican Church in the Drive.

The Rev. Phil Ritchie, our cross bearer, put down his cross and we were led through the second Station. The format was now well-established and included the Kyrie eleison, a reading, a reflection, prayer and a hymn. A robust and tuneful ‘Crown Him with Many Crowns..’ swelled out.

Then it was off again, dodging the traffic until we reached Sacred Heart Catholic Church in Norton Road.

Fr. Kevin Dring led the worship and ended with the ‘Hail Mary’, particularly appropriate since the third Station was ‘Jesus Greets His Mother.’ By now the scorching sun had overcome the freezing sea breeze and hats were the order of the day, even Fr. Kevin had a nifty tropical bush hat.

The next stop was the Central United Reformed Church at Ventnor Villas.

This was the first time I managed to get a photo of the entire group. Truth to tell, I felt a little awkward, lurking on the edges of the procession, taking many pictures (with a tiny compact camera). I also felt awkward counting the numbers of people present as they passed, I suspect that my flickering gaze and silent mouthing of the numbers must have made me appear like an eccentric, praying hard.

Here, in our fourth Station, we contemplated Simon of Cyrene who helped carry Jesus' cross and thought about the many times we had failed to notice, far less help, those in need.

In George Street, shoppers stopped and stared as we assembled, first in the middle of George Street, then at the bottom, outside a branch of Barclays Bank.

Buskers paused, open-mouthed, struck silent; mothers with pushchairs asked each other what was happening; small children pointed. As we prayed the fifth (Jesus is Stripped) and sixth (Jesus is Nailed to the Cross) Stations, a silence descended on the street. Then we sang that old spiritual ‘Were You There When they Crucified my Lord?’ a simple but powerful reflection that was a favourite of Mahatma Ghandi.

Afterwards, the Revs. Paul and Phil led us past the Tesco superstore to our last stop, St. Andrew's Anglican Church.  

 St. Andrew’s is a fine old Victorian structure surrounded by an ancient churchyard (including the remains of Sir George Everest, once Surveyor-General of India, whose name was given to the world’s highest mountain). We stood outside the church, next to the old tombstones and prayed the final Station, ‘Jesus Dies on the Cross.’

Then, the concluding song ‘When I Survey the Wondrous Cross...’, which is probably Isaac Watts’ best hymn. There is a haunting melancholy to the words, a solemn and aching wonder at the extent of Jesus’ sacrifice for us. The lyrics are over 300 years old but they still have the power to move the spirit.

The procession and prayer over, we walked slowly to the church hall where refreshments and hot cross buns awaited, contemplating the final words of the hymn....  

...Love so amazing, so divine
Demands my soul, my life, my all.