In 1919, or perhaps 1909, my great grandmother Ethel Bodger, a hat-maker, received a trifle-bowl as wedding gift. Ethel, who as a grandmother was known as Nana, passed it to her daughter Marjorie, who as a grandmother was known as Mopsy, who passed it to her daughter, who as a grandmother is known as Goose, who passed it to me. I use it to make tasty trifles, by the family recipe, though I tend to miss out the sherry, an ingredient which tastes great, but in which not everybody indulges.

They do say the first scoop of trifle is when you know it’s a good one. The first big spoonful should let out a satisfying squelch. I like to think that is what’s meant by the proof of the pudding. Schlorpp!

There is a whole week between Christmas and New Year, when nobody knows what to do. You’re suspended outside the usual calendar and can’t start anything new, and Easter Saturday feels exactly the same. Imagine an advent calendar, but for Lent, and this would be the final door, but I don’t think it would be the big, climactic door. That was yesterday. That was Good Friday. Easter Saturday is not the sacrifice and death of Good Friday, nor the celebration and life of Easter. It’s an awkward middle-child. It’s Laodicean. It’s the non-binary porridge from Goldilocks. It’s a time to hold your breath, and wait.

There’s nothing more to be said about today, which is calm and quiet, milky paintwater. Let’s look at tomorrow.

Jesus died, descended to the dead, but rose again on the Sunday, and his return in the first fruit of the harvest. I maintain that Good Friday was the main event, but listen to this from 1 Corinthians 15:

*But if it is preached that Christ has been raised from the dead, how can some of you say that there is no resurrection of the dead? If there is no resurrection of the dead, then not even Christ has been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless and so is your faith. ...And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins. If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied. But Christ has indeed been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep.*

*For since death came through a man, the resurrection of the dead comes also through a man. For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive.*

The resurrection is a vital thing! Yesterday the price was paid. And tomorrow resurrection of Jesus is the first scoop of trifle. That’s how you know the trifle is good, and that’s how you know it’s real. And yes it made a noise! And in my experience, no-one dares take the first scoop of any pudding until the host does it, to show it’s time and it’s allowed. Nobody chows down on wedding cake til the couple cut it. That’s the sign we’ve all been waiting for.

Friday was good and Sunday is the proof coming out of her pudding to save humankind.

And as for today Easter Saturday? Who knows what that is all about - I’ve some vague notions about the harrowing of Hell or the scouring of the shire, the rescue of the already dead, the day that Jesus did the dishes, even the really manky ones. We’ll get to that later. Later in our lives I mean, when we’re all dead. There is no later in Ben-Them, because this is the end, this is the end of Lent. There’s no celebratory Easter episode. Easter’s a whole nother thing. Lew Wallace’s classic adventure ‘Ben-Hur: a Tale of the Christ’ ends before Easter and so shall we.

I urge you to to be vigilant, have care for others, and where you can help answer prayers, help answer prayers! Love God and love your neighbour - and not just in an abstract and emotional sense. There are people in need out there.

One more thing about our resurrection, the life in the world to come. I know next to nothing about it, but my prayers - to be resurrected female - are really where I first began my trans adventure, and first got to talking with Jesus about it. In Revelation chapter two there is a little thing that encourages and intrigues me.

*To the one who is victorious - i.e. the one who has faith and does not abandon God - I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give that person a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to the one who receives it.*

I can’t offer much interpretation, but the idea of being handed a stone bearing a new name for myself, one that will only be shared between me and God, is the most intimate validation of the true identity by which he knows me. My parents gave me one name. I gave myself another, but my real name is a secret God has yet to share with me. To know yourself and be known so deeply and so personally.

God be with you, listeners. happy easter, in advance, and happy easter again - and if you fancy it, happy estrogen.

Amen. Amen.