Fire, darkness, incense, water: it all adds up to the most dramatic (and complicated) service of the year. The Easter Vigil is arguably the Church’s most compelling liturgy. We move from the darkness of sin and death into the light of Christ. After the New Fire is kindled out of the darkness, the celebrant explains that this is the night “in which our Lord Jesus passed over from death to life.” It is, quite literally, our night of passover. The night when, in the ancient words of the Exsultet, “Christ broke the bonds of death and hell, and rose victorious from the grave.”

It is also the service with the greatest room for liturgical error. Jesus will be raised, Alleluias will ring out, but at All Saints’ I always consider it a successful vigil if we don’t get a visit from the Briarcliff Manor Fire Department. A priest fumbling around in the dark with fire is not the safest combination.

Nearly every priest has an Easter Vigil story, many having to do with fire. The Rev. Rusty Hesse of St. John’s in New Rochelle remembers one particularly memorable vigil with the late Bishop Horace W. B. Donegan. “Back in the late 1970’s his cope caught on fire as he went to light the fire. Someone had to tackle him to the ground and put it out.”

Awestruck acolytes are common sights at Easter Vigils. The Rev. Bill Schnitzer, a longtime supply priest in the Hudson Valley, recalls a Vigil he celebrated at Holy Cross, Kingston. “At the lighting of the new fire there was a very generous supply of very dry material to light. I lit it and it really flared up in dramatic fashion. Standing next to me was a young acolyte holding my Year A lectionary who panicked and started beating the flames with the book, only making the liturgy even more dramatic in the darkened church. Before anyone called the fire department the flames died down and I lit the Paschal Candle. After the service some parishioners said that it was so dramatic and meaningful the way I lit the new fire! Every now and then I take my Year A lectionary off the shelf and look at the back of the book and look at the marks of the flames on it and smile.”

Not all Vigil “bloopers” involve flaming lectionaries or extinguishing bishops. The Rev. Ellen Francis Poisson of the Order of St. Helena reports that “The very first time I celebrated the Easter Vigil at Vails Gate, we got through everything just fine (whew!) until I uncovered the chalice to pour the wine...and found a decorated Easter egg inside! One of our guests decided that we all needed a bit of lightening up!”

The renewal of Baptismal vows also leads to some interesting moments around the font – with or without children. The Rev. David Lee Carlson, rector of Good Shepherd, Manhattan, recalls a service as a young curate at St. Mary the Virgin in Manhattan. “The font has an elaborate counterweight system so that the spire of a cover can lift and float. The counterweight itself is a crown filled with small ball-bearings. One Vigil, as the cover was being lifted, a chain broke causing the crown to “rain” its contents on the heads of the clergy and the baptismal party. Fortunately, the remaining chains held. But the sound of the ball-bearings raining down was extraordinary and they were filthy, so we were covered with streaks of dirt. So much for being washed clean!”

The Rev. William Doubleday, Visiting Professor of Pastoral Theology at Bexley Hall Seminary, shares a story of liturgical endurance, a reminder that the Easter Vigil is also, by far, the longest service of the Church year. “In the early 1980’s I was a priest associate at Church of the Ascension in Manhattan. My job was to show up and do what I was told. The rector, Father Donald Goodness was a stickler for perfection. I was asked to carry the Paschal Candle and place it in its holder. Alas, they had changed candle vendors and the holder was too big to support the Paschal Candle. I ended up standing in place for the entire service steadying the candle. The rector was not amused.”

Finally, there are moments that, despite all the prior planning in the world, cannot be avoided. Such was the case when the Rev. J. Scott Barker, rector of Christ Church, Warwick, was serving as the assistant at Trinity Cathedral in Omaha, Nebraska. The Cathedral stands across the street from the Omaha Civic Center and on this “holiday weekend” the promoters brought in the popular heavy metal rock and roll band Guns n’ Roses.

“All seemed to be well,” Scott relates, “until that solemn moment when our deacon (a lovely soprano with a choir-boy purity of tone) turned on her wireless microphone to get ready to chant the Exsultet. It turns out that the Cathedral’s wireless was on the same frequency as lead singer Axl Rose’s mic, and so instead of the dulcet tones of the beautiful chant, for a moment anyway, the little Cathedral congregation heard Axl Rose howling to his fans across the street: ‘Welcome to the Jungle!’” And to think, their hit song “Paradise City” would have been so much more liturgically appropriate.”

Despite the potential for uninvited liturgical drama, Jesus Christ does rise every year. This is yet another reminder that our human foibles and machinations serve merely as the backdrop to the Paschal Mystery. If you’ve never been to an Easter Vigil, I bid you to experience one this year. The liturgy, complicated as it may be, is transformative. And, especially if your rector catches on fire, it is one you will never forget.