A Long Good Friday

Yesterday was the first day of the new regime. So I was at home all day, apart from a walk in the evening to prepare the church for today's funeral. All very quiet. My colleague Adrian and I got to grips with 'Zoom' - a platform for group conversations on line. We hope to have a staff meeting this evening with this medium. There was also a lot of thinking and planning about an online service on Sunday, with Gareth continuing to develop new video techniques. It will be a 'service' filmed from different people's homes and gardens: it will be 'A Tale of Two Sisters', to get you thinking!

Today's funeral has been problematic. The man who has died was a much loved and respected, elderly gentleman with a close family. He and his wife have lived in the village for their entire married life, running a slaughterhouse and butchers here for many years, and being much involved in village life, including (formerly) church. He was also a committed Rotarian, well known in both farming and business communities. Normally, we would expect 200-300 people at his funeral. But not today. Although funerals can still go ahead, they should only be brief graveside ceremonies, with minimum number of people, standing well apart. So we have had to do a lot of last-minute negotiation, effectively banning people from coming, apart from family. It is all so sad, and the very opposite of what we would normally encourage. However, we have agreed there will be a memorial service later in the year - and a bit of a party!

When World War 2 was declared in September 1939, for 8 months there was what came to be called a 'phoney war'. War was real enough, but it didn't impact much on British life as the action was happening more on the Continent. It feels like there has been a 'phoney war' for some weeks now. We have all known about Cv, but somehow the reality hasn't kicked in. This may explain why so many people just don't seem to get it, acting as if this is some kind of holiday. Well, it's real enough now!

Last night's news was incredibly sober: statistics predicting a sharp rise in infections and deaths; a very sick woman, through her oxygen mask, telling us all to 'be careful'; and three junior doctors, exhaustedly telling us what it's like on the frontline of medical care for virus sufferers. This is serious. People I know could die. I could die.

I'm trying to think ahead to Good Friday and Easter. How on earth will we keep this most important weekend in the Christian calendar, when we can't go to church? It seems to me that Good Friday has already begun, in a sense. A long journey to a cross of much suffering. The cry of Jesus, 'My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?' seems very apposite today. An experience of God-forsakeness will become common place, and we need to enter that experience together - not rushing on to speak glibly about Easter: 'It will be all right in the end.' Nevertheless, holding on to hope, of love triumphant, of death defeated, of endless Sabbath will be a vital Christian contribution in our day.

Dear God,

Being alone is hard. We were created for community, not confinement.

But we’re grateful that no matter how alone we may feel, You never leave or forsake us. And, we’re grateful for technology that helps us stay in touch with each other.

Today, please remind us that this time of social distancing and isolation will not last forever.

Give us the strength to endure this difficult season, and deepen our connection with You and Your people.

Empower us with an extra dose of Your love, peace, hope and joy, because we need it. Remind us of Your promises, and please heal our land.

In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

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