Addoliad ar Sul y Blodau
Bob wythnos yn ystod y tarddiant coronafirws, mae'r Esgob yn darparu deunydd i gefnogi addoliad y Sul ar yr aelwyd. Mae hyn yn cynnwys trefn o wasanaeth ar gyfer Litwrgi'r Gair, a myfyrdod wedi'i recordio. Mae testun y myfyrdod hefyd ar gael yma.
Darlleniadau
Philipiaid 2:5-11
Amlygwch yn eich plith eich hunain yr agwedd meddwl honno sydd, yn wir, yn eiddo i chwi yng Nghrist Iesu. Er ei fod ef ar ffurf Duw, ni chyfrifodd fod cydraddoldeb â Duw yn beth i'w gipio, ond fe'i gwacaodd ei hun, gan gymryd ffurf caethwas a dyfod ar wedd ddynol. O'i gael ar ddull dyn, fe'i darostyngodd ei hun, gan fod yn ufudd hyd angau, ie, angau ar groes. Am hynny tra-dyrchafodd Duw ef, a rhoi iddo'r enw sydd goruwch pob enw, fel wrth enw Iesu y plygai pob glin yn y nef ac ar y ddaear a than y ddaear, ac y cyffesai pob tafod fod Iesu Grist yn Arglwydd, er gogoniant Duw Dad.
Matthew 2:1-11
Pan ddaethant yn agos i Jerwsalem a chyrraedd Bethffage a Mynydd yr Olewydd, yna anfonodd Iesu ddau ddisgybl gan ddweud wrthynt, "Ewch i'r pentref sydd gyferbyn â chwi, ac yn syth fe gewch asen wedi ei rhwymo, ac ebol gyda hi. Gollyngwch hwy a dewch â hwy ataf. Ac os dywed rhywun rywbeth wrthych, dywedwch, 'Y mae ar y Meistr eu hangen'; a bydd yn eu rhoi ar unwaith." Digwyddodd hyn fel y cyflawnid y gair a lefarwyd trwy'r proffwyd: "Dywedwch wrth ferch Seion, 'Wele dy frenin yn dod atat, yn ostyngedig ac yn marchogaeth ar asyn, ac ar ebol, llwdn anifail gwaith.'" Aeth y disgyblion a gwneud fel y gorchmynnodd Iesu iddynt; daethant â'r asen a'r ebol ato, a rhoesant eu mentyll ar eu cefn, ac eisteddodd Iesu arnynt. Taenodd tyrfa fawr iawn eu mentyll ar y ffordd, ac yr oedd eraill yn torri canghennau o'r coed ac yn eu taenu ar y ffordd. Ac yr oedd y tyrfaoedd ar y blaen iddo a'r rhai o'r tu ôl yn gweiddi: "Hosanna i Fab Dafydd! Bendigedig yw'r un sy'n dod yn enw'r Arglwydd. Hosanna yn y goruchaf!" Pan ddaeth ef i mewn i Jerwsalem cynhyrfwyd y ddinas drwyddi. Yr oedd pobl yn gofyn, "Pwy yw hwn?", a'r tyrfaoedd yn ateb, "Y proffwyd Iesu yw hwn, o Nasareth yng Ngalilea."
Dyfyniadau o’r Beibl Cymraeg Newydd a’r Beibl Cymraeg Newydd Diwygiedig 2004 hawlfraint Cymdeithas (Brydeinig a Thramor) y Beibl. Cedwir pob hawl.
Testun myfyrdod yr Esgob
Ymlaen, frenhinol Un
Ymlaen, ymlaen, frenhinol Un,
“Hosanna!”, gwaedda’r dorf gytûn;
d’anifail llwm ymlwybra ’mlaen
a phalmwydd dan ei draed ar daen.
Emyn o waith Henry Hart Millman, mewn cyfieithiad gan Hywel Griffiths, yw hon – un o emynau mwyaf adnabyddus Sul y Blodau. Mae’n cyfleu’r hanes yn Mathew 21:1-17 lle mae Iesu'n mynd i mewn i Jerwsalem. Mae'r torfeydd yn gweiddi hosanna wrth iddyn nhw ei groesawu; ond mae'r emyn yn ceisio deall y dyfodiad hwn o safbwynt y ddaear ac o safbwynt y nef hefyd.
Heddiw, rwyf am gynnig y myfyrdod hwn fel math o weddi yn hytrach na phregeth yn unig. Gadewch i ni weddïo’r pennill cyntaf gyda'n gilydd eto:
Ymlaen, ymlaen, frenhinol Un,
“Hosanna!”, gwaedda’r dorf gytûn;
d’anifail llwm ymlwybra ’mlaen
a phalmwydd dan ei draed ar daen.
Mae'r pennill cyntaf yn dweud y gwir plaen wrthym: dyma'r gwir Frenin yn dod at ei bobl ei hun. Wrth iddo gyrraedd, mae mentyll a changhennau coed palmwydd yn cael eu gosod wrth ei draed ac mae’r waedd ar enau’r dorf – “Hosanna i Fab Dafydd,” medden nhw. Yn ddi-os, Brenin yw Iesu yn llygaid y dorf. Daw o linach Dafydd, Brenin Mawr Israel, ac mae ganddo fyddin o ddilynwyr. Ac mae hynny o bwys maws. Mae Brenin newydd yn golygu Teyrnas wedi’i hadfer (ffarwel i’r hen, a chroeso i’r newydd). Dychwel trefn gydag ef. Daw digonedd unwaith eto. Bydd yn amddifyn ein ffiniau a'n ffordd o fyw. Fel gawn brofi eto’r hyn a gollwyd: dyma newydd da, ac mae amseroedd da o'n blaenau.
Ac tydi Iesu ddim yn gwadu eu gwaedd chwaith. Does dim ymdrechu i’w tawelu. Yn y man, bydd Pilat yn gofyn iddo “Ai ti yw Brenin yr Iddewon?” – hawdd i Pilat a phawb ddychmygu eu bod yn gwybod sut olwg sydd ar Frenin. Yma, yn Jerwsalem, mae'r distawrwydd yn llethol: gallai fod wedi eu tawelu nhw. Ond wnaiff o ddim.
Ond mae’n dod ar yr anifal mwyaf gostyngedig sydd, yr asyn. Daw’r Brenin ar gefn asyn, gan ddangos inni beth yw gwir Frenin, beth yw gwir bŵer a mawredd. Nid coroni sydd yma, o leiaf nid fel y byddem ni’n ei ddeall. Nid oes gwaywffon, na cherbyd rhyfel, na gorsedd. Nid rhyfelwr mo hwn. Ei gleddyf yw cariad, gostyngeiddrwydd yw ei goron, gwyleidd-dra ei deyrnwialen.
Arglwydd Iesu Grist, derbyniaist ganmoliaeth y rhai a oedd am dy gyfarch fel Brenin: Derbyn ein mawl a’n haddoliad a’n cariad ni; a chaniatá na fydd i ni, sy'n dy gyffesu â’n gwefusau, fyth fethu â’th wasanaeth yn ein bywydau; er anrhydedd dy enw sanctaidd, ti sy’n byw ac yn teyrnasu gyda'r Tad a'r Ysbryd Glân, un Duw, yn awr ac am byth.
Gweddïwch gyda mi drachefn:
Ymlaen, ymlaen, frenhinol Frawd,
yn wylaidd ar dy farwol rawd:
i goncro pechod, codi’r graith,
a thynnu colyn angau caeth.
Da ni’n symud ychydig ymhellach ar hyd y daith honno, bron fel ein bod ni yno, yn gwylio hyn i gyd yn digwydd: rydyn ni'n gweld y Brawd gwylaidd hwn – y Brenin ar ei farwol rawd. Ond y tu hwnt i’r galaru, mae rhywbeth arall yn digwydd: dyma daith “i goncro pechod, codi’r graith, a thynnu colyn angau caeth.” Os mai marw wnaiff y Brawd a’r Brenin tyner hwn, ni fydd hynny’n ofer. Dyma lanw uchel y cariad a’r gras sy’n achub. Yng ngeiriau Sant Pedr: dyma’r un oedd wedi ei ddewis i’n hachub cyn seilio'r byd. Mae ei farwolaeth yn fuddugoliaeth, caiff caethiwed angau ei hun ei garcharu, bydd pechod nawr yn alltud. Dyma'r foment y mae'r nefoedd yn cyffwrdd y ddaear â bywyd a goleuni.
Arglwydd Iesu Grist, trwy dy groes a'th fywyd yn rhodd, rwyt wedi gwaredu di pobl; edrychwn atat ti i'n hachub a'n helpu. Yn dy fawr drugaredd, rhyddha ni o'n cadwyni, maddau bechodau dy holl bobl. Tyrd yn awr a thriga gyda ni, Arglwydd Grist Iesu; clyw ein gweddi a bydd gyda ni yn wastad. Amen.
Cyd-weddïwn drachefn:
Ymlaen, ymlaen, frenhinol Grist,
yr engyl oll sy’n syllu’n drist
o’r nefoedd mewn rhyfeddod mawr:
fe deithi at d’angheuol awr.
Roedd awduron canoloesol yn aml yn defnyddio'r ffordd hon o ddeall digwyddiadau mawr yn y stori Gristnogol: rydyn ni'n edrych ar ddigwyddiad trwy lygaid rhywun arall. Yn yr achos hwn, yr angylion a chwmni’r nef sy'n syllu, fel y mae'r dorf wedi ei wneud – ond maen nhw'n deall y gwir arwyddocâd. Ac wrth iddyn nhw wylio'r ddrama hon yn datblygu, mae nhw’n llawn tristwch. Dyma Fab hardd, sanctaidd, diniwed Duw yn agosáu at ei angau: mae hyn yn hollol druenus. Ac fe'n gwahoddir ni i deimlo hyn hefyd: Sut all y fath ddiniweidrwydd gwrdd â'r fath greulondeb, pam y mae’r fath gariad yn cwrdd â’r fath elyniaeth? Ond mae'r angylion yn gweld yr hyn na wêl y dorf – mae nhw’n gweld y rhyfeddod mawr – dyma orymdaith Oen Duw, yr un sy'n dwyn ymaith bechodau'r byd. Dyma'r dirgeledd:
Ai am fy meiau i
dioddefodd Iesu mawr
pan ddaeth yng ngrym ei gariad ef
o entrych nef i lawr?
Arglwydd Iesu Grist, daethost i'r ddinas lle byddi’n marw: Tyrd hefyd i mewn i'n calonnau ni, a dwg ni atat ti drachefn. A fel y bu i'r torfeydd fendithio dy ddyfod a thaenu eu mentyll ar y ffordd, gwna ni’n barod i osod ger dy fron bopeth sydd gennym a phopeth yr ydym, a’th fendithio di, yn yr sy’n dyfod yn enw'r Arglwydd.
Cyd-weddïwn y pennill nesaf:
Ymlaen, O Fab y Dyn di-fraw,
mae’r olaf ffyrnig frwydyr draw;
y Tad o uchder gorsedd nef
sy’n disgwyl ei Eneiniog ef.
Mae dwyster y weddi hon yn drawiadol. Mae'n cyferbynnu'r “olaf ffyrnig frwydyr” â'r Tad ar “uchder gorsedd nef”, gan osod y daearol drws nesaf i’r nefol unwaith yn rhagor. Yma, mae’r emyn yn ein hatgoffa o’r Mab afradlon neu, fel y mae rhai yn ei ddweud, “Y Tad Maddeugar”, oherwydd ein bod yn gweld y Tad amyneddgar, lled bryderus hwn yn disgwyl dychweliad ei fab. Yn y darlleniad rhyfeddol hwnnw o efengyl Luc, “pan oedd eto ymhell i ffwrdd, gwelodd ei dad ef. Tosturiodd wrtho, rhedodd ato, a rhoes ei freichiau am ei wddf a'i gusanu.”
Ond yma does neb yn rhedeg ato, dim braich am ei wddf. Yma mae'r Tad yn dioddef ing y disgwyl; yn dyst i ddioddefaint ei annwyl Fab. Ni allwn ond dychmygu poen y tad a'r cariad a'i ddaliodd yn ôl rhag rhedeg i gyfarch y mab hir-ddisgwyliedig. Dyma hefyd gariad, er mor wahanol i'r tad yn y stori honno.
Dad Nefol, bu i ti wylio'th annwyl Fab yn marw cyn iddo gael ei gyfodi a'i ddyrchafu ar dy ddeheulaw. Boed i ni fyth anghofio dioddefaint dy Gariad, ond mewn ymateb cariadus osod ein hunain a phopeth yr ydym yng ngwasanaeth llawn a llawen dy ffyrdd; trwy'r un Iesu Grist ein Harglwydd.
Cyd-weddïwn y pennill olaf:
Ymlaen, ymlaen, frenhinol Oen,
â gwylaidd rwysg ar lwybrau poen;
’r ôl gwyro pen dan farwol glwy’,
O Grist, mewn grym teyrnasa mwy.
Ymlaen ar lwybrau poen at farwol glwy. Dyma'r foment o boen dyfnaf a’r ing dwysaf. Mae mab y dyn yn mynd ar y daith i'w diwedd chwerw. Ond awn hefyd yn ein blaenau – mae nodyn tyngedfenol o fuddugoliaeth – “O Grist, mewn grym teyrnasa mwy.” Dyma’r copa, yr eiliad pan fo gwae’r ddaear yn ildio i wynfyd nef; pan ragwelir rhyfeddod y groes. Dyma’r adeg, er na ddywed yr emyn hynny’n glir, pan fo Iesu’n wir yn Frenin. Brenin croeshoeliedig, ei rym a’i gariad wedi eu plethu’n un. Brenin sydd wedi dod i'n hachub.
Dyma gariad fel y moroedd,
tosturiaethau fel y lli:
Twysog Bywyd pur yn marw –
marw i brynu'n bywyd ni.
Arglwydd Iesu Grist, diolchwn I ti am bob budd a enillaist inni, am bob poen a gwawd a ddygaist drosom ni. Drugarocaf Waredwr, frawd a chyfaill, bydded inni dy adnabod yn well, dy garu’n anwylach, a’th ddilyn yn agosach, ddydd ar ôl dydd. Amen.
Worship on Palm Sunday
Each week during the coronavirus outbreak, the Bishop is providing material to support Sunday worship at home. This includes an order of service for a Liturgy of the Word, and a recorded meditation. The text of the meditation is also available here.
Readings
Philippians 2:5-11
Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death - even death on a cross.
Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.
Matthew 2:1-11
When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, ‘Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, just say this, “The Lord needs them.” And he will send them immediately.’ This took place to fulfil what had been spoken through the prophet, saying, ‘Tell the daughter of Zion, Look, your king is coming to you, humble, and mounted on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.’ The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting, ‘Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!’ When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, ‘Who is this?’ The crowds were saying, ‘This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.’
From The New Revised Standard Version (Anglicized Edition), copyright 1989, 1995 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America.
The text of the Bishop's meditation
Ride on in majesty
Ride on, ride on in majesty!
Hark! all the tribes hosanna cry;
O Saviour meek, pursue your road
with palms and scattered garments strowed.
Henry Hart Millman wrote this best known of our Palm Sunday hymns. It depicts Matthew 21:1-17 in which Jesus enters Jerusalem. The crowds cry hosanna as they welcome him; but the hymn seeks to understand this arrival both from earth and heaven’s perspective.
Today I want to offer this meditation as a kind of prayer rather than just a sermon. Let’s pray this first verse together again:
Ride on, ride on in majesty!
Hark! all the tribes hosanna cry;
O Saviour meek, pursue your road
with palms and scattered garments strowed.
The first verse tells us what we know to be true, that here is the true King coming to his own people. As he arrives, tunics and palm tree branches are laid at his feet and the cry goes out – “Hosanna to the Son of David,” they say. Let’s be in no doubt: the crowd sees Jesus as King: He is in the line of David, Israel’s Great King, and he has an army of followers. And that is loaded with meaning. A new King means a restored Kingdom (out with the old, in with the new). He restores order. He brings prosperity and protects our boundaries and way of life. He ushers back in what was lost: this is good news and good times are ahead.
And Jesus doesn’t deny their cries either. They aren’t silenced. Later in an exchange with Pontius Pilot he would be asked “Are you the King of the Jews?” – easy for Pilot and everyone to imagine they know what a King looks like. Here, in Jerusalem, the silence is deafening: he could have quietened them. But he doesn’t.
But he comes on the humblest of animals, a donkey. The King rides a donkey and shows us what a true King, what power and greatness really like. This is no coronation then, at least not as we would understand it. There is no spear, no chariot, no throne. This is no warrior. His sword is love, his sceptre is humility, his crown, lowliness.
Lord Jesus Christ, you received the praise of those who hailed you as their King: Accept our adoration, worship and love; and grant that we, who confess you with our lips, may never fail to yield the service of our lives; for the honour of your holy name, for you live and reign with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God, world without end.
Pray with me again:
Ride on, ride on in majesty!
In lowly pomp ride on to die:
O Christ, your triumphs now begin
o'er captive death and conquered sin.
We move a little further into that journey almost as though we are there, watching this take place: we see this lowly pomp – this kingly visitor whose journey forward is to die. But beneath this slow lament something else is happening: “O Christ, your triumphs now begin, o’er captive death and conquered sin.” If this gentle King is coming to die, it is not wasted, without purpose or meaning. This is the high moment of saving love and grace. In the words of St Peter: here is the one destined to save us before the foundation of the world. His death is triumph, imprisoning death is made captive, wasting sin made hostage. This is the moment heaven touches earth with life and light.
Lord Jesus Christ, by your cross and your life laid down, you have set your people free; we look to you to save and help us. In the greatness of your mercy, loose us from our chains, forgive the sins of all your people. Come now and dwell with us, Lord Christ Jesus; hear our prayer and be with us always. Amen.
Pray with me again:
Ride on, ride on in majesty!
The winged squadrons of the sky
look down with sad and wond'ring eyes
to see th'approaching sacrifice.
Medieval writers often used this way of understanding big events in the Christian story: we look at an event through the eyes of another. In this case, it’s the winged squadrons of the sky – the angels who watch, as do the crowds, but they understand its significance. And as they watch this drama unfold, they do so with wonderment and sadness. Here is the beautiful, holy innocent Son of God approaching death: this is utterly tragic, wretched. And we are invited to feel this too: How could it be that such innocence is met with such cruelty, how love with such enmity? But the angels look too with wond’ring eyes, they see what the crowds cannot: in this steady, resolute journey, there comes the Lamb of God, the one who takes away the sins of the world. Here is the mystery:
O who am I,
That for my sake
My Lord should take
Frail flesh, and die?
Lord Jesus Christ, you entered the city where you would die: Enter into our hearts, we pray and draw us to yourself once more. And as the crowds blessed your coming and spread their garments in the way, make us ready to lay at your feet all we have and are, and to bless you, who comes in the name of the Lord.
Let us pray the next verse together:
Ride on, ride on in majesty!
Your last and fiercest strife is nigh;
the Father on his sapphire throne
expects his own anointed Son.
The intensity of this prayer is striking. It contrasts the fierce strife at hand with the waiting Father in a glorious heaven, again placing the earthly perspective alongside that of the heavenly. And the hymn here reminds us of the prodigal Son or, as some have called it “The Forgiving Father”, because we see this waiting, almost anxious Father expecting the return of a son. In that wonderful reading from Luke’s gospel, we read that ‘…while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him.”
But here there is no approach and no extravagant gesture. Here the Father endures the agony of waiting; of witnessing the agony of His beloved Son. We can only imagine the father’s pain and the love which held him from running to greet the long-awaited son. This too is love even if so different from the father in that story.
Heavenly Father, you watched your beloved Son die before he was raised and exalted at your right hand. Grant that we may never forget Love’s agony but, in loving response, lay ourselves and all we are, in full and joyful service to you; through the same Jesus Christ our Lord.
Let us pray this last verse together:
Ride on, ride on in majesty!
In lowly pomp ride on to die;
bow your meek head to mortal pain,
then take, O God, your pow'r and reign.
Ride on to die, the verse directs, in lowly kingly pomp. This is the moment of deepest agony and most intense pain. The son of man goes on the journey to its bitter end. But there is a pointing forward, a stronger note of triumph – take O God, your pow’r and reign. This is the great summit, the moment when earth’s woe gives way to heaven’s bliss; when the wonder of the cross is anticipated. It is at this point, even if the hymn doesn’t invite this thought, that Jesus is truly King. A crucified King whose power and love are one. A King who has come to save us.
Here is love vast as the ocean,
Loving-kindness as the flood,
When the Prince of Life, our ransom,
Shed for us His precious blood.
Thanks be to you, my Lord Jesus Christ, for all the benefits you have given me, for all the pains and insults you hast borne for me. O most merciful redeemer, friend and brother, may I know you more clearly, love you more dearly, and follow you more nearly, day by day. Amen.