Who has not been moved and
disturbed by visual images and stories told of people on ventilators with vital
oxygen being forced into their lungs as they fight the deadly COVID-19 virus?
In the townships of South Africa people riot in their desperation to be
recipients of scarce food; and in other parts of the world the pestilence of
such things as malaria, locusts and war continue to ravage the lives of young
and old for whom the enforcement of lockdown becomes a further threat to life.
Yet there is an irony in
the truth that in these days of lockdown whilst we long for healing and the
eradication of a coronavirus that leaves people gasping for air, creation
itself is breathing a little more easily. There have been some minor
improvements in the ozone layer and the lungs of the birds produce song more
prevalent than before.
For me, praying the Lord’s
Prayer whilst handwashing is more than a pragmatic act but rather a heartfelt
cry for God’s kingdom to come on earth as in heaven.
All around us there is a
sense of longing for a different future and perhaps we are more attuned to the
groaning of creation as described by the apostle Paul in his letter to the
Christians in Rome (Romans 8:18 – 25). There is a yearning for a future freedom
when the whole of creation will be made new and the whole gamut of broken
relationship will be restored - a time of shalom when there will be no more
pain or dying and every tear will be wiped from our eyes and our becoming will
be complete (Revelation 21:1-5).
Perhaps without even
realising it, people’s clapping for carers is affirmation of a longing for the
Kingdom of God as the people who strive for healing, justice, peace and
flourishing are applauded with enthusiasm. Whether it’s healthcare workers
tending the sick or vulnerable, teachers in schools, refuse workers collecting
the rubbish, or those supporting victims of domestic abuse, numerous people in
many different roles are working for the wellbeing of people and place amid joy
and pain.
Creation is groaning but
the fruits of the spirit are still evident and on a Thursday night I’m glad to make
a noise for those who are expressing such things as love, joy, peace, patience
and kindness.
As people of all ages have
glimpsed generous acts of care amid devastation and trauma, there has been courageous
talk of how this time of viral pandemic will change us and how life will never
be the same again. Yet in our desire for a better future there is something
seemingly paradoxical in our language of ‘return’. People long to return to normal
whilst also expressing a desire to occupy a different landscape. The returning
is looking forward as well as back.
I found it
quite profound that as we went into lockdown in Lent with a government emphasis
on staying at home, the extended preface for the Eucharistic prayer in the
Church of England liturgy included the wonderful words of being led by God ‘into the desert of repentance, that through a pilgrimage of prayer and
discipline we may grow in grace and learn to be [God’s] people once again’.
It expresses the turning of repentance which enables us to ‘be’ at home and
there is a looking forward to a returning home to right relationship with God
and neighbour and creation. In the desire to be at home there is both a looking
back and a looking forwards.
Those words about
learning to be God’s people once again have continued to reverberate within me
as I contemplate the Church living a different present as we seek to navigate
our way to a future we cannot yet envisage.
I have heard
people reflecting on the experience of the people of Israel wandering in the
wilderness, led by Moses, as they sought to reach the Promised Land, which was
an unfamiliar but desired home. Others have reflected on the theme of God’s
people in exile hundreds of years later, longing to return to the familiarity
of home - a place where they belonged and a way of life which was familiar. Both
of these periods in the life of God’s people have dissonance with where we are
now whilst also having resonance, not least with the themes of returning and remembering.
As I have pondered those
words of returning and remembering, I have found myself
thinking about the wise men from the East who go in search of the Christ child
as told in Matthew 2: 1-12. Somehow a star has mysteriously marked a truth that
there has been the birth of someone and something significant. After their extraordinary
encounter with the infant Jesus they are warned in a dream not to return to
King Herod and we are told that they set out to return to their own country by
a different road. These words always strike a chord in me at Epiphany at the
start of the New Year - a time when people often make resolutions as they look
to the future but very often find themselves returning to the familiar by the
same road. I have been pondering this narrative again as I think about the road
to recovery across every aspect of our lives. A recovery which is both about
returning and moving forwards, and one which will require us not to forget this
time we now live.
During this time of
lockdown, our inability to fully come together to remember has perhaps added to
our sense of bewilderment. This has included the restriction on people gathering
for funerals and events such as VE day; and as Christian worshipping
communities we have not been able to come together in the Eucharist as we remember
and receive.
One of the key things we
proclaim together in different acts of remembrance is our commitment to not
forgetting so that we might live life differently, most crucially with regards
to our relating as individuals, communities and nations. Remembering is not simply
about the past but rather it is about how we shape the present to live the
future.
At Remembrance Sunday gatherings as I hear the Last
Post and stand in silence, my sadness is never all about the horrific tragedy
and loss of the past but it is also about lament for the present because it is
so evident that there is much we have not learned.
I want to suggest that now
in this time of reflection and planning for returning we must not lose sight of
the need to keep remembering. Indeed, I would suggest that ‘re-membering’ is a
better word to describe much of what we are currently calling ‘recovery’.
During this time of
lockdown many people of all ages will have experienced a sense of being
emotionally dismembered, whether through isolation, disappointment, grief, or
serious illness which has brought sudden separation from loved ones. Being
physically distanced has brought places of dismembering not only in communities
and families but also within worshipping communities. Both the people in exile
and the people wandering in the wilderness knew something of what it meant to
be dislocated and dis-membered as a community longing for home - a place of
familiarity, security and thriving. A place to breathe deeply and easily. There
was a need for re-membering as a people located in a place.
In the Old Testament, many
years after the desert wanderings and many before exile, there comes the book
of Ruth. It is a short book which begins with a journey of return born out of a
situation of pain and death and the truth that life will never be the same
again, and there are points of connection with our current situation.
Naomi is in a place of
grief and dislocation following the death of her husband followed by the death
of her two sons. She and her family had previously moved to Moab as a result of
famine and now Naomi takes the decision to return to her home town of Bethlehem.
Her two daughters-in-law, now widows, are from Moab, and as they set out with Naomi
on her journey of returning, she implores them to go back to their home. Orpah
agrees but Ruth clings to her mother-in-law determined to live the unknown
adventure of change which will arise from Naomi’s desire to return. Ruth encapsulates this in words to Naomi: ‘where you go I will go, where you lodge I
will lodge, your people shall be my people and your God my God.’ (Ruth 1:16)
I have found myself
pondering how in this present time we might have learnt to be God’s people such
that we elicit echoes of Ruth’s words in the expressed desires of our neighbours
and communities.
The book of Ruth which
began with death concludes with a new shape of being at home. Indeed there is the
physical birth of Ruth’s son, Obed, from whom Joseph the earthly father of
Christ, is a descendant. And throughout the story of a returning and the birth of
something new, there is a remembering and the re-membering of a family and a
people discovering relationship and community.
It seems to me that there
are some simple but deep questions we need to be asking if we are to return to
a different future: What is the treasure we have discovered in the present that
we want to hold on to? And what has been good in the past that we have missed
and want to recapture? And in the past and in the present what have we
recognised as ugly, diminishing or fracturing that we want to leave behind? And
most importantly, how will we remember so that we might sustain that which has
been life-giving and dare to change where we need to live differently?
In our re-membering there
will always be the need for individual reflection, response and commitment, yet
it will always need to be within the context of being people of community, and
for followers of Christ it is about being members of the Body of Christ. One of
the words which has been strong in my mind as we have sought to navigate this
current landscape is that of ‘solidarity’. It is one of the values and concepts
I want to explore more deeply in my remembering as we live the days ahead. Solidarity
is not about sameness or even agreement - it is about how we stay together and
connected even in our places of difference and disagreement. It is a community
word and a commitment word.
There has been something
significant in the solidarity we have seen across local communities, not least
in the act of clapping for carers and the appearance of rainbows, themselves a sign
of remembrance. What might at first
glance look like conformity is probably more akin to solidarity because behind
the clapping and banging and rainbows there will be nuanced messages and
different perspectives, yet something deep has been communicated in the
standing together.
In the final chapter of
the book of Joshua in the Old Testament, the people of Israel now in the Promised
Land renew their covenant with God and one another. Joshua asks the people whom
they will serve and the people are clear that they will not forsake the Lord
their God (Joshua 24).
It is an act of solidarity
and commitment to what is being left behind and what is being held on to as
they shape their future. Joshua marks the time and place with a large stone to
bear witness to all that has been spoken and to aid the people’s remembering as
they endeavour to live life differently.
I am wondering what the stones
are with which we are marking the ground as we speak a commitment to a
different future and promise not to forget. I believe we need to identify
touchstones for our remembering which will be life-giving for the future.
As something of an aside,
perhaps there is an irony in the fact that many of our church buildings are a conspicuous
‘large stone’ within urban and rural landscapes, and in this time when our cathedrals
and church buildings have rightly been locked there has been much comment on
their place within our communities. In many places the way we return as living
stones to our church buildings will be a significant contribution in helping us
remember what has been good in the shaping of our lives, communities and world
as well as what has been broken, unhelpful and diminishing.
One of the things I frequently
ponder from family therapy training is how systems of relationship will, like a
thermostat, do all they can to resist change and pull back to the familiar way
of functioning with the same deep pattern of organisation, even if it might
look a little different on the surface. It is the principle of homeostasis and
is something we are all too familiar with in the Church.
I don’t have the answers
but in this time of viral pandemic I am seeking to identify where I have added
to creation’s groaning, whether in the present or the past, and what it is that
makes my soul sing with the birds. Amid the pain and physical death of the
present, where has been the birth of the new or where might it be?
I am asking how remembering
will shape our returning, and what we could be doing now to mark what we wish
to remember, both as individuals and as worshipping communities as we seek to participate
in God’s work of transformation and yearn for the coming of God’s kingdom on
earth as in heaven.
I am pondering how as a
leader I will enable and live solidarity in the returning, not losing sight of
the wider world; and I am wondering how the Church is growing in grace and learning to be God’s people once again.
***
Each day, we will post a
short article by one of Darton, Longman and Todd’s amazing authors, offering a
personal reflection on our current situation in life. Sometimes this will be
written with reference to one of their books, and sometimes about how they are
living in response to the coronavirus and our current world situation. We hope
it will give you a taste of the depth and diversity of DLT’s list – books for
heart, mind and soul that aim to meet the needs and interests of all.
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