Reset and Recall

Thank you very much to all who prayed and sent good wishes as we said goodbye to Paul this morning. It was a very moving service, the more so with only 7 present - his wife, Wendy, and their family. One of his daughters and one of his grand-daughters both spoke tearfully about him. The hardest thing was seeing them depart in single file afterwards, when the most natural thing would have been to hug each other.

Wendy was my predecessor as Team Rector, who had stayed in Cockermouth with Paul when she retired. It has been a most harmonious relationship between me and them, and Wendy has continued active in ministry. So this is very much a death 'close to home.'

Paul was much more than the Rector's husband! He was a most genial and friendly man, with a heart full of faith and love. He loved music: singing, playing the organ (worshipper first, organist second - not always the case!), and he played the Eb bass in the brass band! He was a member of one of our Church Councils, and organised several meetings of our men's group. He will be dearly missed, as was obvious when many people - unable to attend the funeral - stood out on the streets of the town as the hearse went past. He would have been amazed - a modest man. We will have a proper thanksgiving service for him as soon as we are able.

Yesterday our clergy chapter met via Zoom. We shared a lot about how different 'church' is now: what will remain of what we have learned, and what will revert to something like 'normal'? All agreed we really must think again about how we 'church', especially as - even before the Cv emergency - financial issues are troubling us both centrally (in the diocese) and locally. How can we spend less, and more purposefully? And how can we inspire one another to give more sacrificially as a new vision emerges?

I've been writing before about how the lock-down is helping us to realise the damage we have been doing to the planet, and indeed our own health. It is as if we are pressing the 'reset' button. But, from a Christian point of view, this is only half the story. We also need a sense of 'recall': not just caring for the planet,, but returning to our original relationship with our Creator, through Jesus Christ. As someone has just written to me:

Climate Emergency campaigners get the first point – that we must cease to mis-use the planet or we will destroy it.  The second point is even more urgent – all of us need a relationship with the One whose creation it is, and who alone can show us how to live well on earth.

I finish with another piece of artwork, this time by Eleanor. She says it is inspired by the sense of community she felt during our Palm Sunday worship last weekend.

Holy Week begins

Palm Sunday yesterday. The start of Holy Week. It was quite an intense day, in fact, both in terms of entering the 'spirit' of this time of year, and in 'meeting' various people on line. We were very pleased with the morning service, which included many faces from different churches in our team. There were many words of appreciation afterwards. You can still view it here:  https://youtu.be/3ihPu50n9tY

When we reviewed it later on, one of those who took part commented on how 'un-professional' it was - in a good way. That is, it was all of excellent quality but lacking the polish of a professional production. So somehow, it felt like authentic worship - the offering of gifts, rather than performances. Much of the rest of the day was spent preparing for more online offerings during this Holy Week.

Not forgetting our own walk with God. I awoke on Saturday with an old chorus from childhood in my mind:
Jesus loves me, this I know
for the Bible tells me so.
Little ones to him belong,
I am weak but he is strong.
Yes, Jesus loves me.
Yes, Jesus loves me.
Yes Jesus loves me.
The Bible tells me so.

Where did that come from, after all these years? But actually, this is fundamental to the Gospel story, so a good song to carry through this week! I began reading through the Gospel story of Holy Week, from Matthew 21 yesterday, trying to enter with my imagination into the events described there. Interesting to note how Jesus moves from confrontation with authority to connecting with crowds eager to listen to him, to private space with his 12 disciples.

Today, the first of 3 funerals this week - only one of them Cv related. Today's is for a true 'Browton lass', who had lived in the same house in our village for her entire life. Just so sad that only her husband can be there: her daughters and other family members unable to travel.

And last Friday, another tragedy. A mum, with two teenage daughters, found dead at home, in the village. Unexplained, but she had been very unwell for some years.

The words by Kitty O'Meara I quoted more than two weeks ago (21st March) have now gone viral. Heather, who is a member of our Mission Community and a contemplative Christian, has spent some time meditating on them, and produced a beautiful colour interpretation. She says, 

"There is a peace and hope there I feel. In drawing the world with a rainbow wrapped round I hadn't realised till I finished, there is faith in the purple holding all upward to our connection to the God who loves and cherishes us all..."

Camping

Yesterday, I managed a screen-free day. Well, almost. A zoom session with my colleague, Adrian, in the morning; and a mega-zoom with all the family in the evening. Adrian and I are in daily touch with each other, for mutual support as much as anything; and to keep abreast of all the changes we are managing, including various online posts or video recordings.

I'm glad to say that all the family seem to be well, and nearly all of them still working - from home, of course. We talked a bit about the long-term effects of this Cv crisis: the move to home-working, on line - and how that had been slow to take off, pre-Cv; the seemingly greater readiness of church members to meet via zoom, than actually attend meetings; the greater appreciation we might have of friends and family, having been separated for a time; the prospect of some significant mental health issues in the future as a result of anxiety and despair, and interruption to the normal end-of-life rites of passage. (I think particularly of the parents, whose 13-year old boy died, and they could not attend his funeral.) On a more light-hearted note, also the prospect of a baby boom around the end of this year!

It is natural to try to give a frame of reference to what we are going through. I have already had a bit of a go, by writing about the Unintended Sabbath. Another analogy might be camping. It's something we have never done as a family, largely because Les prefers her mod cons! But I did camp as a Boy Scout (Patrol Leader, Kestrels, 1st Colney Heath Scout Troop, if you're interested!). In those days, 'glamping' had never been heard of. We did everything by the book  - 'Scouting for Boys'! But even modern camping has some similarities with our present predicament:

• it is temporary
• limited in terms of resources
• challenging, being vulnerable to 'the elements'
• being in close proximity to people, in confined space
• calling for skills not often used e.g. occupying yourself without tv e.g. playing games
• appreciating nature more

But just as camping is mostly enjoyable, we learn now to 'enjoy' what we have as a temporary respite for 'normal' life. The big difference, of course, is this is no holiday; we don't know when it will end; and we won't be returning to 'normal'. So I think some of the journeys in the Bible are more akin to this. Take Abraham for example. He set off on a long journey, 'not knowing where he was going'. He would periodically pitch camp, often in alien territory. And there he would build an altar to the God he believed was with him, and whose promises he trusted. Just so, we live with these temporary circumstances, but we try to 'build altars', that is to say put down markers  - meet with God right where we are, trusting him to lead us through.

So the services we have been recording for tomorrow; the many 'virtual' prayer times which are popping up all over the place - these are ways of saying 'we are not alone.' We trust God to lead us on.

Here is a prayer from Richard Rohr:

 

God, we ask that all who are affected by this virus be held in your loving care. In this time of uncertainty, help us to know what is ours to do. We know you did not cause this suffering but that you are with us in it and through it. Help us to recognize your presence in acts of kindness, in moments of silence, and in the beauty of the created world. Grant peace and protection to all of humanity for their well-being and for the benefit of the earth.  

Joy in Sorrow

Sad to say, having felt quite positive on Monday morning, things went downhill very quickly for our friend, suffering from Cv. His name is Paul. Later in the day, his wife was called to the hospital, and he eventually died in the early hours of Tuesday morning. I will write about Paul another time. Suffice to say, he was a well-known and much-loved person within our churches, and in the town community. His death strikes at our very heart, and the shock is palpable. There have now been over 40 deaths from Cv in Cumbria, and our area has one of the highest rates of infection in the country. The loss of Paul will have a significant impact upon our worship this weekend. Our hearts are with Paul's wife, and all who are grieving the loss of someone dear to them - especially as 'farewells' are so difficult at this time, and hugs, like many other things, are in short supply.

Sometimes, a bereaved person will talk about the guilt they feel if they experience joy or happiness while mourning a loved one. It's as if it's inappropriate when one should be feeling sad. Often this will happen particularly if a new relationship is beginning. Of course, it's completely normal to feel this way. We need to have a proper understanding of joy, and why it matters. It's not the same as pleasure!

One of the less edifying aspects of the present situation is the rank selfishness of some people, and the 'everyone for themselves' attitude.  Like the young farmer, who challenged someone walking through her field of sheep, with a dog off the lead. The farmer pointed out the risk to animals, and to farmers who might become infected through touching gates or stiles which others had touched. The 'visitor' said it was their right, and how dare she suggest otherwise (or words to that effect). Such an attitude cannot be condoned.

An opposite attitude might be summarised in something the wife of my old college principal said once: 'We're not here to enjoy ourselves, you know!' Somewhere between these two extremes lies the word delight. If we believe that God is a loving creator who 'richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment'  then humbly receiving life as a gift, and delighting in all God has made, is fundamental to what it means to be human. In the book of Proverbs, Wisdom is personified, and says I was constantly at his side. I was filled with delight day after day, rejoicing always in his presence, rejoicing in his whole world, and delighting in the human rqce. (Proverbs 8.30-31)

You could even say that joy or delight is even more important in time of affliction such as now. Allowing ourselves moments of delight is one of many ways in which we stand against a prevailing mood of anxiety and apprehension. It's almost an act of protest, or defiance. But it must not turn into self-indulgence or escapism. Our mindset needs to be one of looking outwards and upwards: the mind of Christ.

Here is an extract from a poem which I have found helpful:

...we enjoy our lives because that's what God wants.
Otherwise the mornings before summer dawn would not
be made so fine...
If we deny our happiness, resist our satisfaction,
we lessen the importance of their deprivation.
We must risk delight. We can do without pleasure,
but not enjoyment. Not delight. We must have 
the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless
furnace of this world...

Jack Gilbert (1925-2012): 'A Brief for the Defense'

Blackbirds

I don't really know where the weekend went! It was a mixture of things: prayer, preparing for worship, struggling with technology, various online conversations, pastoral phone conversations, a bit of baking,a bit of reading and the daily walk. It's strange how, with an empty diary, time still seems to go by, but you can't remember much about what you did with it.

There is continuing concern about our friend in hospital. He is still very ill, but it is good he has made it through the weekend, and today they hope to begin a new course of treatment. We continue to pray constantly for him - and for his wife, that she does not also succumb to infection.

One of the things that is recommended during these weeks of isolation is to learn anew to appreciate nature. It is constant in its annual sleep, renewal, flourishing and decaying, and this of course is replicated in our human cycle of life. We need to take heart from nature, her capacity for regeneration and her gift of joy and delight. This gives us hope, as we look forward to a new future beyond our present distress.

If ever I were marooned on the proverbial desert island, as in the long-running Radio 4 series, one of the recordings I would take with me, I'm sure, would be the song of a blackbird. My earliest memory of it is from when I was studying for A levels, many years ago. Often, that hot summer, I would be working in my bedroom, the window open, and high in a chestnut tree a blackbird would sing. It was a huge blessing to me, and even now, whenever I hear one in full throat, it connects me with my past as well as cheering me on. 

I awake very early these mornings, and I've noticed that a blackbird begins his (it's only the male!) dawn chorus at almost precisely the same time each day. Sometimes I hear him at dusk too. He has an incredible range and variety of song. So, dear readers, I invite you to take time out and enjoy a space of just 3 minutes, while this blackbird sings for you. If you listen carefully, I think you can hear another blackbird in the distance, answering him:

https://www.british-birdsongs.uk/common-blackbird/

Coronavirus Close to Home

It's strange how, when you expect something bad to happen, it still comes as a shock. On Thursday, I learned that a good friend in our town had been admitted to hospital with Coronavirus (Cv). He is still very unwell. I must confess, it rather shook me. In my head, I knew Cv was likely to strike, but when it's someone you know well...So much of the past two days has been spent thinking about and praying for him and his wife. It is scary.

At the same time, I have been preparing and recording a talk for tomorrow morning's broadcast from our Cockermouth churches. As it happens, the Gospel reading is about Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead and - for me - the interesting subtext of how Lazarus's sisters, Mary and Martha deal with their grief, and respond to Jesus. It is a 'Tale of Two Sisters'. What can we learn from them?

The technology has been challenging for me! Both learning how to record a video well (the easy bit!), and then how to upload to where it needs to be, in order to become part of the whole. That's my struggle: but I will learn!

I did manage to take a break yesterday, though. Mowed the lawn, at last. And read some poetry: a selection of children's poetry, put together by Liverpool poet, Roger McGough. Very diverting and enjoyable.

On Thursday, I had one of my regular Skype conversations with a long-standing friend in Liverpool. She put me onto a website about communal experience of trauma, which of course this is all becoming. Rather than me write any more today, you may like to read this letter from a priest to her congregation, which is deeply reassuring and wise:

https://tragedyandcongregations.org.uk/2020/03/24/a-letter-from-carla-grosch-miller-to-a-congregation/

I Protest!

It's another fine day: thank God for the sunshine, and we can get out -  even if not very far.

Yesterday's funeral was a beautiful, intimate service, full of love. And no crowds turned up: the bush telegraph had done its work. There were tears, there was laughter, there were prayers, there was Shirley Bassey! Afterwards, George's widow said: 'It's just what he would have wanted. He didn't like fuss. He would just have wanted his family.' How ironic.

Otherwise, it was a day to Skype and Zoom. I had an hour on Skype with a friend, who is 'on mission' in Peru. Anna lives in Lima, where there is a far more serious lock-down, including an 8pm to 5am total curfew and complete closure of borders. I pray for her in her solitude: her English flatmate is stranded abroad; and of course her church can't meet. For an extrovert like Anna, this is tough.

Then Les and I 'Zoom'd' with family, on our Pete's birthday. Fascinating to see all the family in one go on a screen. A moment to treasure, and yet another gift of today's technology. Afterwards, a Zoom staff meeting with Adrian and Deborah. During Evening Prayer, we realised one disadvantage of Zoom: it's difficult to say (for example) the Lord's Prayer together as the system only allows for one person to speak at a time. At least it encourages the discipline of listening during a meeting!

During Lent (easy to forget about this season!), I decided to follow some material from the Church Mission Society, 'Lament for Lent'. It turns out to have been just the right choice, in the circumstances. The theologian Walter Brueggemann reckons lament is largely absent from our way of thinking in our Western culture, because we are reluctant to face suffering or to embrace negativity. This is at complete variance with the majority of the world where suffering - terrible suffering - is an everyday experience, be it war, famine, extreme poverty, natural disasters unjust regimes and so on. So we in the West have much to learn from the experience of others: think for example of the songs of protest of African-American slaves, or people like Mother Teresa, or Nelson Mandela or Archbishop Desmond Tutu during the apartheid era.

Far from saying 'There can't be a God, to allow this', God is addressed directly: 'Why God, why?' And in the indignation, even the anger, that goes with it, one finds oneself on God's side, doing something about it. As someone has written, 'To lament is to recognise something isn't right and to refuse to be okay with it.' Interestingly, it is reckoned that 40% of the Psalms in the Bible are actually protest songs or laments, directly confronting God, calling upon God to act.

So we shouldn't be taking this Cv business lying down! This is not a holiday! This is a time to rise up and address the problem, as part of the warfare against all that is evil in God's beautiful world. The trouble is, as a culture, we have been spoiled. We expect everything to be ok, we expect to be healthy and strong, and if something goes wrong, we expect 'someone' to sort it, so we can 'move on'. It's the attitude that lies behind President Trump's ridiculous 'All over by Easter' promise!

There are many expressions of goodness and warm humanity at this time: witness the tens of thousands who have responded to the call for volunteers nationally, to help with the work of caring. Can we learn to see that every act of kindness or compassion, every word of encouragement, every stand against negativity or injustice, every prayer, every Eucharist,  - all these things and more - are actually ways in which we are protesting against what is wrong in our world? It is 'recognising that something isn't right and refusing to be okay with it.' In short, we all have to take some responsibility for this Cv crisis and each in our own way, protest against it. We don't have to be a Government minister, a doctor or nurse, to play our part.

Right - time to prepare a talk to record for Sunday. Then some 'gardening' - otherwise known as 'mowing the lawn'. This is the limit of my horticultural effort, I'm afraid. But, to all you keen gardeners, with plenty of time for your passion: God bless the land, and make it fruitful.

Here's a brand new hymn, written for this time. It goes to a number of different tunes, which unless you're a hymn expert like Les (my wife) you probably won't know. Bizarrely, perhaps, it goes to 'O Little Town of Bethlehem.' Try it. Sing it loud! (Les has pointed out that this tune is a bit jaunty for the seriousness of the content, so Sing it Loud - but Sing it Slow.)

This sudden Sabbath gives us pause
to rest and to reflect.
What is the focus of our lives
and what is its effect?
We live within a common world,
whatever race or creed;
for things maintaining life and health,
we share a common need.

For some a love of God becomes the
centre of their prayer,
but such a love’s a hollow boast
when neighbours have no care.
The early Christians took the lead
of Jesus as their style,
to hold in common all they had,
to go the second mile.

When people safe-guard all they have,
while others queue in fear,
when those who have are given more,
while hunger’s drawing near;
where is our faith, our common love,
as cries become more stark,
when poverty crowds round our door,
the future clouded, dark?

Now is the moment for us all
to live what we confess,
to live within community
the faith that we profess.
Then let us stand as one with all
we share a common birth,
that on until eternity
love holds each life on earth.

Andrew Pratt 18/3/2020 – In response to the Coronavirus pandemic.