In my 1717 Book of Common Prayer, there is a chapter titled “Gunpowder Treason,” with instructions  “to be used yearly upon the Fifth day of November, for the happy deliverance of King James I, and the three estates of the realm, from the most traitorous and bloody intended massacre by gunpowder.”

On November 4, 1605, a plot to blow up Parliament and assassinate King James I was discovered and foiled. A group of Catholic malcontents had placed 36 barrels of gunpowder beneath the House of Lords, with the intention of blowing the place up during the State Opening of Parliament on November 5. The authorities began arresting those responsible and later obtained confessions from the plotters. One of them was Guy Fawkes. His name has since been associated with annual celebrations marking the country’s deliverance from “gunpowder treason.”

Across the country each year on November 5 bonfires are lit and fireworks set off. Perhaps the most spectacular of these celebrations occurs in Lewes, the ancient market town located in the English county of East Sussex. Lewes was once the home of Anne of Cleves, the fourth wife of King Henry VIII. Her house still stands and attracts tourists from across the world. Lewes was also the home town of the wife of William Penn. Ever wondered why there is a Lewes in Delaware? 

On Guy Fawkes Night the town is closed off to motor vehicles, allowing pedestrians to wander freely through the streets and pavements. After dark the various bonfire societies parade through the town in their period finery, some looking like visitors from the palace of King James. Seeing the banners and lit torches, it is like stepping back in time. The smell of chestnuts roasting in street briars adds to the intoxicating sensory experience.

Every year I would catch the train from Brighton to Lewes to see this annual event. After watching the processions march through the town, I would follow the Cliffe Bonfire Society to the top of the hill, where they would set off fireworks and blow up two twenty foot high effigies: one of the Pope, and one of a politician. At the climax of the evening, with torches aflame and voices rising in unison, the large crowd would chant “Burn the Pope! Burn the Pope!” It was both frightening and exhilarating. 

I must admit at that stage of my life I was not a Christian. On Bonfire Night, it was more the spectacle than the danger that attracted me. With hindsight, I feel slightly ashamed I went at all. In any case, I eventually made the decision to stop going, after one night when things got out of hand. 

What happened exactly? In the wild atmosphere of smoke and fire and human faces, people started behaving recklessly. I saw a man use his torch to burn a hole in the red velvet gown of one of the marchers. Other people had brought skyrockets and were firing them horizontally into the crowd. It felt as though some manifestation of evil had crept into our celebration.

I am reminded of that bonfire night when I think of the Passion of Jesus, and how evil crept into the minds of those set on removing Jesus from public life. In the garden of Gethsemane, where Jesus was arrested, there were many of the same elements. It was night. People were carrying torches. There was some random violence. Evil was prowling around. 

In Lewes, facing the malevolence of some of the crowd, my instinct was for self-preservation. That would have been in St Peter’s mind, too, when he faithfully followed Jesus into the courtyard. As Jesus is being questioned and assaulted, did Peter feel the chill of fear? While he wanted to save Jesus, he was also thinking of himself. When the bystanders turn on Peter, he denies knowing Jesus.

It is a moment of shame that Peter will never forget. In the presence of evil, Peter thinks about his own self-preservation. On the one hand, it can be said that God needed Peter to lead the early church and spared him the death his master was about to face. On the other hand, it is also human nature to look after yourself. Who among us would have acted differently?

In Holy Week, the Passion of Jesus is being played out for us. We walk behind Jesus and also behind Peter and the others who take part in the great drama of salvation. This is the greatest story ever told - terrible in its betrayals and violence, uplifting in its culmination of victory and redemption. It is a very personal story. Jesus’ Passion is like a bright light illuminating the dark recesses of our souls. If we are honest with ourselves, we will admit that it is not people who are different to us who condemned Jesus to death. Rather, it is people like us who did so. 

And we will keep doing so, as long as the devil finds a home in our hearts. The Passion of Christ is a warning to us, not to submit to the forces of darkness that surround us. This is why we keep our gaze on Christ, and suffer with him on his tortuous journey to Calvary. For beyond the humiliation of the cross there is a promise of new life. But to get there we must first stumble through the darkness - to feel our faith tested - and find our own place within this great story of life and death. 

Father David