If you hate stuff about religion, skip this one.

Hello Reader

Whatever else Easter may be, to you or to me, it's certainly a time of great drama - if you know where to find it.

Over the last week, I've seen plenty, and missed some too.

A week ago, I watched professional musicians perform Bach's St John Passion (on its 300th anniversary).

There's something deceptively simple about the effect of the piece: one singer takes the part of St John (the "author"), while others provide the voices of Jesus, Pilate, Peter, and others.

Even if you don't care for this particular story - as I do - just imagine what it would be like to have a part of your own life performed in that way.

(On that note: I'll be running Impro for Storytellers sessions in Hampstead, north London, soon.)

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On Thursday, disappointingly, I missed the chance to watch a vicar washing people's feet. Again, leaving aside whatever else the service means, that sight alone is incredibly dramatic.

I'm sure you can imagine how vividly it conveys humility on the vicar's part. I wonder if you can imagine how awkward it feels for the foot-owner too:

It's a shame British monarchs gave up washing feet, in favour of the more dignified (and therefore pointless) dishing out of Maundy money.

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Last night, on the eve of Easter Sunday, I attended the Easter vigil. The service begins outside, with a blazing fire from which candles are lit, and carried slowly (so they don't blow out) into the dark church.

By candlelight, I read a passage from Hebrew scripture about Passover.

Happy Easter.

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