In the Shadows of the Cross

In the western Christian traditions, this week is Holy Week and brings us to Easter. Unusually, and somewhat paradoxically, it was also the week in which there was the annual Cadet Church Parade of the 254 King’s-Edgehill Cadet Corps at Christ Church. What follows are the reflections read by students, including two from Maasland College in Oss, Netherlands, who are visiting the School. Students from our Corps have participated in their commemorations of the liberation of the Netherlands. It is lovely to have students from Oss with us. The reflections focus on aspects of the School’s history and purpose as seen ‘in the shadows of the Cross’.

Everyone loves a parade! But what kind of parade? There are all kinds of parades: parades of military might and power, parades of cultural pride and social identities - from St. Patrick’s Day Parades to Pride Parades, parades of protest and advocacy, parades of national celebrations and anniversaries, parades of solemn mourning and remembrance, parades of religion and faith. What kind of parade is our parade? Is it about calling attention to ourselves? ‘Look at us looking at you looking at us?’ That would be merely self-referential. Is it not something more that reminds us of the principles of the School and its connection both to the immediate community and the wider world?

 

The School is a Corps on parade today. A corps is a body, a living body, not a corpse. Our parade bears witness to the ideals of service and sacrifice that belong to the history and purpose of the School. This is expressed in the founding mottoes of King’s and Edgehill: Deo Legi Regi Gregi and Fideliter, ‘For God, for the Law, for the King, for the People,’ and ‘Faithfulness.’ Together they provide a counter to the culture of privilege and self-interest. They promote the qualities of commitment to the good of one another and to the ideals of thinking and living beyond oneself.

This is the 144th year of the 254 King’s-Edgehill Cadet Corps in the 238th year of the School. Students and faculty of King’s and Edgehill have been part of many of the defining struggles of the 19th and 20th centuries in many different places all over the world: Egypt in 1801, the War of 1812-1814 with the USA, the 1815 Battle of Waterloo in Belgium, the 1837-1838 Rebellions in Upper and Lower Canada, the 1854-1855 Crimean War, the Indian Mutiny of 1857, the 1885 Riel Rebellion in Western Canada, the Boer War of 1899-1902 in South Africa, the Great War, World War I of 1914-1918, and, subsequently, World War II in 1939-1945, the 1951-1953 Korean War with UN Forces, and the Vietnam War of 1955-1975. Quite a litany of wars in many different parts of the globe and with respect to various conflicts and divisions! Students from the School, men and women, continue to serve in the Canadian Forces to this day, and in other militaries as well. The shadows of the darkness of war have been a constant and continuing feature of our School’s history and our global world, it seems.

It is a special honour to have with us students and faculty from Maasland College, a high school in Oss, Netherlands. We have had the honour and privilege of being part of their commemorations of the liberation of their country by Allied troops which included Canadian soldiers such as those of the Black Watch to which our Corps is attached. We welcome you to our School and to Christ Church!

Oss, net als heel Nederland, heeft jaren van bezetting meegemaakt. Het werd binnengevallen in mei 1940 en vier jaar later bevrijd in de herfst van 1944, eerder dan de rest van ons land in mei 1945. We herinneren ons die jaren niet omdat we ze zelf hebben meegemaakt, maar vanwege de herinneringen die de generaties voor ons hebben doorgegeven, de herinneringen van overgrootouders en familieleden die de bezetting en bevrijding hebben meegemaakt. Het was een donkere en moeilijke tijd: de schaduwen van oorlog, de dood die letterlijk boven ons hoofd hing en de onzekerheid van hoe en wanneer en of het zou eindigen. Onze bevrijding van de bezetting was een enorm moment van vreugde en opluchting dat we niet kunnen vergeten. We herinneren ons in het bijzonder de offers van meer dan 7.000 Canadese soldaten die hun leven gaven bij de bevrijding van Nederland.

What you just heard was read in Dutch by Nikki. Here it is in English:

Oss, like all of the Netherlands, experienced years of occupation. It was invaded in May of 1940 and liberated four years later in the Fall of 1944, earlier than the rest of our country’s liberation in May 1945. We remember those years not because we experienced them personally but because of the memories passed onto us by the generations before us, the memories of great-grandparents and relatives who lived through occupation and liberation. It was a dark and difficult time with the shadows of war and death literally hanging over our heads and with the uncertainty of not knowing how and when and if it would end. Our liberation from occupation was a tremendous moment of joy and relief which we cannot forget. We remember in particular the sacrifices of over 7,000 Canadian soldiers who gave their lives in the liberation of the Netherlands.

There is, especially on this day, another kind of parade and one which gathers up all of the different aspects that belong to the truth concealed in ‘the parade of parades’ that have just been mentioned and, especially, as highlighted by the experience of the peoples of Oss. Today is Wednesday in Holy Week. One of the traditional services for this day is known as Tenebrae. The word means darkness or shadows. Tenebrae anticipates the three great holy days of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday that bring us to Easter. Holy Week in the Christian understanding is the parade of human sin and betrayal, on the one hand, and the parade of divine love and redemption, on the other hand. We are meant to find something of ourselves in the readings of the Passion of Christ, the parade of sin and love. Something is made known in the shadows of the Cross.

We meet in this sacred place which has had a long connection with both King’s Collegiate School and Edgehill School for Girls and now King’s-Edgehill School. The words written on the walls remind us of the purpose of this place. From the story of Jacob’s dream in Genesis about “the angels of God ascending and descending” upon a ladder stretching from earth to heaven, and the Lord’s word to Jacob out of that vision, that “I am with you,” we read that “this is none other than but the house of God; this is the gate of heaven” (Gen. 28.17). In this week of sorrows we are also reminded of joy and gladness.

The reading from Genesis, which Gabby read, belongs to Abraham’s encounter with three men or three angels, it seems, but is actually the Lord. “They said,” plural,  … “The Lord said,” singular. Three in one and one in three. It is an exquisite scene of oriental hospitality but understood as a meeting between God and our humanity. It happens under the shade of the oaks of Mamre.

 

It marks the occasion of the promise to Abraham and Sarah of a son, the promised son, Isaac, through whom the promises of God will be for all people. In that scene, Abraham and Sarah prepare a feast but Abraham “stood by them under the tree while they ate;” waiting upon them as a servant, not as one with them at the meal.

The scene has captured the Christian imagination in the famous 15th century Russian Orthodox icon by Andrei Rublev, known as the Icon of the Trinity. You have seen a copy of it in the Chapel, and it is before you here today.  It shows the communion of the Trinity, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost and hints at the theme of our communion with God through the sacrifice of Christ. The mystery of God with us is revealed under the shade of the oaks of Mamre.

The second lesson from John’s Gospel, read by Dami, anticipates the Passion of Christ and highlights its meaning for us. “Greater love has no one than this that one lays down one’s life for one’s friends.” It is a poignant phrase that is found on many cenotaphs, which means an ‘empty tomb’, that commemorate the sacrifices of those who gave their lives in the great wars. In the shadows of the Cross we learn the lessons of love.

It is in this passage that Jesus says “no longer do I call you servants” but “I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you.” We are no longer just those who stand by as servants but those who are also invited to the feast. Tenebrae adumbrates or shadows forth the meaning of the events of Maundy Thursday with Christ at the Last Supper “on the night that he was betrayed” and of Good Friday when he was crucified. Out of the side of the wounded and dead Christ flows water and blood, understood traditionally as the symbols of the sacraments of baptism and communion. They are the means of our communion with Christ. This is the divine friendship which shapes our friendship and life with one another.

We are meant to learn those “two vast, spacious things - sin and love,” as the English poet George Herbert puts it. There is light and life in the shadows of the Cross. Christ crucified is “the book of love” opened for us to read. Only so may we learn to live and love. Out of the darkness and the shadow of death comes life and hope. There is light in the shadows of the Cross.

My thanks to the readers for presenting these reflections so effectively: Vinnie Armstrong ‘25, Skye Hussey ‘26, Ray-Ray Gingras ‘26, Willoughby Larder ‘29, Nikki de Hass and Finn van Schaik from Oss, Netherlands, Julien Gingras ‘27, and Spencer Armstrong ‘30; along with Head Girl, Gabby Shaw ’25 and Head Boy, Dami Adeniji ‘25, and Natalia Shaw ‘27 who led the intercessory prayers. And thanks to the servers: Lily-Beth Fisher ‘26, Caleb DeCoste ‘30, Ewan Shaw ‘30, Nin Garay de Castro ‘27, Hyatt Endres ‘28, Ezra Choo ‘26, and Sokha Ebert ‘30.