There was something wonderfully different about Easter Sunday morning at Castle Street Methodist Church this year; something in the air. Partly it was the joy of resurrection, partly the warmth of community, and partly the unmistakable smell of freshly baked soda bread.
This Easter, we decided to experience the resurrection not just by hearing the story, but by making it with our hands, with flour and buttermilk, and with the help of some brilliant young bakers. As part of our all age worship, we rolled up our sleeves and made soda bread together during the service.
It might sound unusual, but there was something deeply meaningful – and joyful i about it. Soda bread rises not because of yeast but through a quiet reaction between baking soda and buttermilk, a hidden process that mirrors the quiet wonder of the resurrection itself. Just as Jesus rose from the tomb in the early morning light, so our simple dough, shaped and blessed by little hands and big ones alike, began to rise and change in the warmth of the oven.
We talked together about how God brings new life out of ordinary things. How resurrection doesn’t always come with trumpets and fanfare, but often begins in small, quiet ways — in hearts warming, in hope growing, in love shared. We reflected on the rough edges of soda bread: how resurrection doesn’t mean everything is perfect, but that something nourishing and good can still be shared.
And we shared it. Later in the service, alongside the bread and wine of Communion, the freshly baked bread was brought out: warm, fragrant, real. A sign of Christ’s presence among us, and a reminder that the good news of Easter is not just something we hear, it’s something we taste and share.
There were lots of smiling faces, especially among the children who took charge of the measuring and mixing (and a fair amount of flour on the carpet, but we’ll call that part of the liturgy!). It was a celebration full of laughter, meaning, and the kind of holy messiness that reminds us what resurrection looks like in real life.
We give thanks for everyone who came, everyone who stirred the bowl or offered a prayer or sang out the joy of “Thine Be the Glory” with full hearts. Christ is risen — and, at Histon this year, we could smell it.