Quarantine 16, Holy Week

Holy Week

Palm Sunday has come and gone, and we are in the middle of Holy Week. Since there are no church services, no choir practices, nothing like that, in order to experience this week, one has to make an effort. There are many churches which stream services, without a congregation, or which compose services by copying and pasting former services into a live sermon in an empty church but in front of a camera. The church in The Hague makes audio services for all the important days of Holy Week. In fact, church services with a maximum of 30 people, minister and choirmaster or organist included, with strict instructions about virus prevention measures. But most churches have decided not to take any risks and to suspend their services. In the Bible Belt, where the services continued, many people have been infected with the virus, especially amongst church goers. They all know each other well, so perhaps it was wisdom not to continue the regular services, at least not physically. On Palm Sunday I took part in a recording for the service of tomorrow, of Maundy Thursday, and the service of Good Friday. Together with a soprano from our church choir we sang 3 hymns, accompanied by the organ and also sometimes by a cello, played by the husband of our organist, a musician of the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra. Unfortunately, all orchestras have been sent home for at least two months. So Fred had time for a very valuable contribution to the musical part of the service.

Since we were there, we also read the Lamentations, the last reading on Maundy Thursday, after which the imaginary congregation leaves the church in silence.  I had not prepared myself for a reading, as we were volunteered into it since we were present anyway.

Being in the church om Palm Sunday was a very intimate experience. The sun shone through the coloured glass, the atmosphere was serene, even more so than with a full church. The hymns and the readings moved me. I was thankful and happy to do this and be there on that particular Sunday.

The readings, prayers, and the sermon are done by different people, as usual, but now at home, sometimes in church, and seamlessly collated as one complete service. On the church website is a link to the service, and also to a pdf or Word file with the complete liturgy so that people can take part at home, and even sing the hymns.

On Palm Sunday I also watched a service from Hereford Cathedral broadcast by the BBC. It was a joyful Sunday for me, mixed with melancholy feelings.

 

 

This holy week the weather has been glorious, with temperatures reaching 20-25 degrees centigrade. Nature is a miracle. Buds on the trees burst open, and young almost translucent leaves unfold tentatively. Azalea’s, camelias, bloom with bright colours, the Pieris shows its bright red new leaves, the frogs enjoy their orgy in my pond, the goldfish swim near the surface to enjoy the sun, and the heron has discovered my snack bar, the pond, feasting on juicy frog legs, very fresh indeed. 

Taking through my kitchen window: The heron taking off gracefully like a ballerina after having snacked on innocent frogs
Below, an inquisitive frog, like a woman leaning out of a window to gossip with the neighbours

It is pure happiness to have a garden, and to see this resurrection of plants, shrubs, and trees after a winter in which everything seemed dead. No corona virus can stop this process. The sky is very bright and clear, intensely blue. No pollution by planes, which usually fly in very low to Schiphol. I am right under their flight path. Now I see one or two planes a day, the first one early in the morning, and then another one perhaps in the afternoon. Everything seems more brilliant and sharper, colours brighter and more intense. No noise of planes either, which fly so low that we have to stop our conversation till they have passed over the house. But the laughter of children, playing together now that the schools are closed. One of the new neighbours bought a very big trampoline the other day, and now all the children of this short street seem to congregate in that garden and have lots of fun, jumping and shrieking with pleasure. It will make the parents happy I suppose, who have difficulty working from home and teaching their children as well.

Being single in a time of isolation is very lonely, but being stuck in an apartment with the whole family must be far more challenging. I have enough space in a big house, and best of all this garden, which may not be large, but to me is a miniature paradise. Besides, I have lived alone for a long time now, so have had lots of practice.

The "mirror lake" with Dijckenburch in the distance and a bit nearer

 

 

 A former drive to one of the houses, lined by beautiful beech trees, with no traces of leaves yet

Today I went for a walk in Landgoed Leeuwenhorst, parkland just behind the dunes, a mixture of sand walls and woods, ponds and meadows. It lies as an island amidst the bulb fields, which this part of the country is famous for, the soil being very suitable for bulbs such as narcissi, tulips, hyacinths etc. It has been a very warm day and the breeze took with it he intoxicating perfume of the hyacinths. Leeuwenhorst used to have several country houses which were residences of rich and well-known people. One mansion is still standing, and restored to its former beauty, de Heerlijckheit Dijckenburch. The whole park has been restored. Part of it is parkland, part of it is woodland which is not interfered with. Leeuwenhorst was already inhabited very early on. After Willibrord’s landing at Katwijk nearby, an abbey was founded here on a sand wall.

 

 

After my walk I took a longer detour home and went again through the area where the bulb fields are. I needed fresh tulips, for myself and a sick neighbour, so I bought the last of the daffodils, intense yellow and a perfect flower for Easter, plus lots of tulips which are now very cheap as all trade with the UK, Italy and Germany has now stopped.

This time of isolation isn’t a holiday, but the weather being so glorious, it certainly feels like one. Small compensation for all the things we must miss now, especially during Holy Week which is a painful loss.