National Day of Reflection

 Tuesday March 23rd will mark one year since the Prime Minister went on television to announce that we were all to stay at home to save lives and protect the NHS. The anniversary of a lockdown might seem a strange thing to acknowledge, but it has been deemed an appropriate date to remember the many thousands of people who have died during this pandemic. It is being coordinated by Marie Curie and officially supported by the Church of England.

This Sunday. St Nicholas' in Beverley will be using our online worship to anticipate the day and to reflect on the impact of the pandemic and to pray for all of those affected.

Reflections on a second lockdown

On Saturday night a priest posted that one hour after the new restrictions were announced, Anglican Twitter was looking for loopholes. It started me wondering why, and caused me to scrap what I was going to say in my All Saints' Day sermon and hastily put something else together. The problem (as with many arguments between clergy - especially online) is that several issues get bundled up together in one argument, and we sometimes talk across each other, rather than tease out a question. The same thing happened during the earlier lockdown, which I wrote about at the time.

This time around, I have noticed three themes cropping up regularly:

• Churches need to meet for congregational worship (and many focus on holy communion here) in order to nurture the spiritual lives of their people. Suspending services will be detrimental.
• A resistance to the government telling the church that it can't meet for worship, along with criticism of the C of E bishops for not protesting loudly enough. Faith leaders, including the Archbishops of Canterbury and York have now written a joint letter on this subject, which you can read here.
• Concern that lockdown will have a damaging impact on all aspects of the well-being of our society. 

First of all, it is undeniable that these concerns are not trivial; they are real and substantial. As a parish priest I would much rather be in a context where we could be running a full range of services of worship, Messy Church, Toddler Praise, and our drop in tea and cake session for older people, etc. It would be great to see the cafes and pubs open and thriving, and people secure about their futures. I don't want to live in lockdown any more than some of my more vociferous colleagues, but unlike them, I do think it is a necessary evil.

Let's consider those concerns. Earlier in the year, churches went without meeting from mid-March until services began to resume in July. We missed some of the most important celebrations in the Christian year - Holy Week, Easter, Ascension & Pentecost. Here at St Nicholas' we maintained a weekly online worship, we emailed, phoned round, and also posted services, messages and prayers. We ran quizzes, prayers and courses on Zoom, and when we were able to come together again, our numbers were soon getting back towards normal, with a few vulnerable people staying in touch watching the recording of the service. 

This time around, the lockdown will cover 4 Sundays, unless circumstances require an extension, and the terms are somewhat less strict than last time. Clergy can still go into their buildings to record services, and funerals are permitted in our buildings. We can also continue to open up to enable people to pray. That is why I am struggling to see why this merits so much more protest than last time.

However, the problem now is that faith communities were not consulted, whereas during the first lockdown, the Archbishops saw cooperation as part of the national effort. That leaves me wondering whether 'this is not about that'. Perhaps the protests are less about the effect of suspending services per se and more about the lack of consultation, otherwise we should have been shouting much more loudly in March/April. I'll soon write some more about the issue of corporate worship and lockdown, but for now I would simply observe that faith communities proved very resilient during the long break. We share a sense that our security ultimately derives from something beyond ourselves and all of our activities or rituals.

Related to that is the unease a number of people feel about freedom to worship. A government banning gatherings for worship is not a comfortable scenarios, and in other contexts would be (and in some locations is) very sinister. However, despite my lack of trust in the Prime Minister in many ways, I don't think the elimination of faith communities is on his agenda. Places of worship are not being singled out here - lots of other clubs, associations, businesses and activities are also affected. The issue for us to watch is that, once the emergency is over, those freedoms are restored and full democratic accountability is back in place for this and future governments.

For me the biggest concern is the impact that lockdown will have on wider society. Businesses are in difficulty with jobs, livelihoods, and homes put at risk. Social life is effectively suspended, isolation inevitably follows, and with dark nights that is made all the worse. I fear that mental health problems will inevitably become more widespread as a consequence.

This latter point certainly merits some noise from faith leaders. There are some really good charitable efforts going on around the country to support people in all kinds of need at this time, including many originating in churches. However, it is government that can make the real difference - whether with meal vouchers, furlough, business support or boosting funding to mental health services. Holding our leaders to account for how they are sustaining our nation's life at this time is a crucial contribution we all can make.

For all my scepticism about the competence of our leaders, I am sufficiently convinced that infection rates are rising, and that without substantial action, the graphs for new infections, hospital admissions and ICU occupancy will go beyond what the NHS can handle. Lockdown is a very costly option, and whilst I think that action could have been taken sooner and for a shorter duration, I still believe that it is the best available choice in the circumstances. 

As I looked around my church on All Saints' Day I saw a lot of older people, some of whom have significant health challenges, and I was worried. Given the rapid rise in infection in our area, gathering them in a building was starting to feel like a risk we should no longer be taking. Yes - I'll miss us meeting together. Yes I'll miss sharing in communion. Yes, I'll find Zoom and YouTube poor substitutes for 'real' meetings, and yes I am worried for all the people who live in my parish. However, this may be the way to ensure that we are all around to meet again in a few weeks' time, when hopefully the risks will have reduced, and better measures are in place to detect and deal with infections.

Funerals, Churches and covid-19

You may have seen headlines about a letter written by Chris Loder, the Conservative MP for West Dorset, about resuming funerals in parish churches. It was signed by 35 of his party colleagues, and asks for the Bishops of the C of E to give permission for funerals to take place in church, in line with government guidance.

The first thing to say is that we would all like to be back to normal. I would rather have taken today's funeral in church than at the graveside. We want our buildings to be available to the communities they are there to serve. However, that can only happen when it is safe and practicable to do so, and pressure from a group of MPs is not a helpful contribution at this stage.

It's worth taking a look at the current guidance for managing funerals during the pandemic, which has been published by the government. It addresses a number of issues, including who should attend and the management of the 'venue'. The guidance (or are they really regulations?) make it clear that there are significant restrictions on who should attend, and that a series of hygiene and social distancing measures need to be in place at the venue.

Perhaps the place to start is about who can attend. Funerals are one of the few occasions when a small gathering of more than 2 adults can occur legally. The guidance says that numbers should be limited to ensure that 2 metres can be maintained between people:

"alongside the Funeral Director, Chapel Attendant, and funeral staff only the following should attend:

• members of the person’s household
• close family members
• or if the above are unable to attend, close friends
• attendance of a celebrant of choice, should the bereaved request this"

Round here, for practical purposes, that is being interpreted as 10 mourners at the crematorium or at the graveside (although in the latter case, I have spotted an occasional extra mourner standing at a significant distance in the cemetery).

I am told that some crematoria have security checking people on the gate, but thankfully that isn't the case where I am. However, there are full-time staff around if required to assist were there a problem. We have to anticipate the same scenario at a church door, should restrictions ease. Church buildings are often closer and more accessible to the bereaved than a crematorium, so more mourners might be expected to try and come. Someone has to enforce that at the door, and I don't relish the thought of anyone having to turn people away from a service in church - especially a funeral. I don't know who I would want to ask to do that. Funeral directors might oblige, but they are not members of or representatives of our church community, so if there was an issue about access, I'm not sure it should fall on them.

Then there is the issue of precedent. A blanket ban on all activity has the merit of being clear. Once the church doors are open for funerals, it inevitably begs the question as to why they couldn't be open for other services too. It is reasonable to argue a case for funerals as an exception to the rules, but it would increase disquiet about other services being blocked. Opening up churches has to be looked at as a whole, and not just on one specific issue.

The current regulations themselves lay down a whole set of conditions for the funeral ceremony venue, which all make a lot of sense. These include:

• "mourners who attend should be signposted to the advice on social distancing and that they should not attend the funeral if they are unwell with symptoms of coronavirus (COVID-19)
• venue managers should ensure that handwashing facilities with soap and hot water and hand sanitiser are available and clearly signposted
• venue managers should ensure that processes are in place to allow a suitable time to clean and disinfect the area in which the service has taken place both before and after each service, paying attention to frequently touched objects and surfaces, using regular cleaning products
• venue managers should consider how to manage the flow of groups in and out of their venues to minimise overlap between different groups and allow for adequate cleaning
• venue managers should maximise ventilation rates of the premises by opening windows and doors where possible."

A minority of C of E churches will be able to cope with this fairly well - especially churches which are physically large, have a good set of loos, and paid staff who can police, usher and clean. But for many parish churches, that is a set of obligations they would struggle to fulfil.

For example, many church buildings don't even have windows that will open, or sinks with hot water (a cold tap in the vestry is sometimes all they have!). Smaller churches often have narrow aisles which will make getting in and out a slow and laborious process. Furthermore, the people who volunteer to assist at funerals as vergers, wardens and organists (and cleaners) in many churches are over 70 and so should be at home while the infection is in wide circulation (as well as those with health conditions). 

I am sure that some easing of restrictions on the use of church buildings will gradually come through over the next few weeks. That may include funerals, and managing expectations in the midst of all of that will be a significant challenge for clergy and church councils. Some churches will probably be able to do more than others for periods as we transition from where we are now to whatever the new normal will look like. We will also have to carry out thorough risk assessments on all of our activities (including services), asking questions that we never thought we would need to ask. 

The false assumption in the MPs' letter was that churches aren't already asking the questions as to how long these arrangements must persist. We ask them every day, but we also know that we have a duty of care for every gathering in our buildings (often of a vulnerable demographic). Church of England ministers are taking funerals in these strange circumstances every day, so we are painfully aware of the difference between this and what used to be normal. I've been impressed by how bereaved families have not only coped with, but fully understood and accepted the current situation. In all 6 funerals I have dealt with since lockdown, the families have been very helpful, cooperative and appreciative. But I wish I could have done more, and I wish the church building could have been an option, but it can't and shouldn't be until we know the risks have been reduced to a minimum.

Perhaps if Mr Loder and his friends had a chat with some of their local clergy, they might find it helpful in learning more about the challenges we all face in moving forward as lockdown eases, and a little more understanding about why the current measures are in place.

Church Buildings, Streaming and Lockdown

For about the last 40 years as a youth leader, ordinand and clergyperson, I've been constantly preaching the message that the church is not a building, but people. It's a jumping record (if you do vinyl) or a loop (if you're digital) that I intend to maintain whilst I am still capable of coherent speech. In fact, no-one ever really contradicts me, but in the way churches behave and prioritise their activity and energy, you might come to a different conclusion.

This has all come up again, because clergy have been instructed not to go into their buildings regularly - whether to pray or worship along, or to stream services online. In reaction, some go into their churches anyway, some have gone to significant lengths to make a room in their vicarage look ecclesiastical for streaming, some just keep their heads down, others of us have accepted that something more simple might have to suffice.

This has prompted a number of discussions on Facebook and Twitter, and some significant heat has been generated:

• about the importance of buildings as holy places
• about a sense that prayers / communion in a kitchen/living room/study are somehow less legitimate than those "in church".
• about streamed worship and what sort of church it creates / shapes
• about the authority of the archbishops to prohibit clergy from using the church buildings entrusted to them.

Buildings

Let's take church buildings first. It is clearly the case that specific, dedicated buildings are not essential for the church to be authentically the church. To say otherwise would be dismiss the life of the church in the early centuries of its existence, along with persecuted churches through the centuries, not to mention the many congregations (including in the C of E) which gather in school halls or community buildings week by week. There are many more pressing theological, ecclesiastical and social questions that are a much greater threat to the church's legitimacy than the buildings being utilised.

That's not to say that buildings are irrelevant or trivial, but they are not an end in themselves, and they are not fundamental to the church's being. At a practical level, a church building is useful - it's a venue, it's a known location, and usually provides an instantly recognisable location and focal point for identifying the church's presence. And that has a profound symbolism - church buildings are often viewed with affection by the local community because of its associations with sad and happy memories in the lives of their families and friends. Go to any churchyard on a fine day, and you'll probably see others placing flowers, looking for their ancestors or just remembering. This can have a profound meaning - especially in communities where generations of the same family have lived.

At an aesthetic level, Church buildings can be beautiful symbols and pointers to the beliefs of the community that use them, and to the God who is worshipped within them. Some of the greatest art, sculpture, architecture and stained glass have been created to that end. The 800th anniversary of laying the foundations of Salisbury Cathedral has just happened, and that's an example of a structure that for many points not only to the sky, but also to God himself.

The trickier bit is when people start to talk about sacred space, so-called 'thin places', or stones that have been prayed in for a thousand years. Anyone who has been to an ancient Christian place of pilgrimage or spirituality will appreciate this. I have had that sense visiting Lindisfarne and Iona, for example, but even in these cases we need to be careful. Are we saying that somehow God is more present in these locations, or that the barriers are thinner or lesser?  Are we finding that these locations are especially good at helping us discern the God who, in fact, is just as present everywhere else? To put it more technically, is there something ontological about a 'holy place'?

My own view is that there is nothing ontological about holy places, but the significance of the events that created those locations in the first place, and the long history of pilgrimage, worship and devotion around them creates its own dynamic of expectation and receptivity. People certainly seem to have experiences of God in a closer and more immediate way in these places, but that doesn't mean that they are intrinsically different to anywhere else. Don't get me wrong, I don't see the experience of sacred space as insignificant, but it shouldn't create a spiritual hierarchy in our heads that effectively says God doesn't turn up in certain places, or at least he turns up in a superior way in some places, rather than others.

Coming back to today's debate, it is undeniable that many church buildings are very helpful in preparing people to pray, in providing visual symbols, pointers and signs for worship, and being places of encounter. Having said that, in my 8 years as a stewardship adviser, I met a number of vicars, church wardens and treasurers of village churches, who would have been glad to be rid of a listed building with a 6-figure repair bill so that they could meet instead in the village hall.

I have also been reflecting on whether the passions circulating about buildings also have something to say about our own faith development. It's probably fair to say that the most significant moments in my own faith and in discovering my vocation happened on CYFA ventures in hired school premises, or in youth group meetings in church halls. Over the years, I have been aware that I don't associate church buildings with important formative moments or key periods in the development of my own faith. As a result I have had to listen carefully and learn about people's love for, attachment to, and sensitivities about church buildings in order to understand and engage with their spiritual life, but it doesn't come naturally to me.

More positively, I see the current restrictions as an opportunity to rediscover God in everyday life, in people, and in unlikely places - even my study. After all, although Jesus did spend time in the Temple, he invested an awful lot of it in other people's dining rooms, and the eucharist was not instituted in a church or temple, but a room borrowed for a group meal. Perhaps there's something new for all of us in that.

Streaming

I saw a Twitter conversation about the term 'virtual worship'. I think one of the official C of E channels had used the term, and some people felt it suggested a contrast between online and 'real' worship. Obviously there is a difference in the means of delivery of worship, but how has that changed our experience and engagement with worship.

As a minister, my experience is primarily in putting together and sharing online worship. The thing I am missing is probably best summed up with the word rapport. There is the absence of the more formal liturgical response - no "and also with you" or "amen" can be heard in from of my computer. I miss the nods and smiles when I welcome people to services; I miss the occasional chuckle or even comment back during sermons; I miss the handshakes of the Peace, I miss placing holy communion in people's hands, and sharing in singing together the songs of worship. Facebook Live, YouTube and Zoom can compensate for some of that, but it's not the same. If you're not religious, compare having a coffee, a meal or a drink with your mates on Zoom versus sitting with them in the cafe, bar or restaurant.

Of course, in church we're also asking questions like "is it real worship"? I think it is "real" whenever people sincerely engage with it wherever they are, but whether it could ever be normative is a different question. As it's all very new and feels a strange and temporary way of being, our little YouTube sessions feel like a stop-gap measure. Involving others in online worship is more complicated, and requires a certain amount of technical ability and resources. I have been keen not to end up doing "the Mike Peatman show" on a Sunday, but avoiding that has resulted in me having to spend more time with iMovie. Furthermore, we have to remember that significant numbers of churchgoers are either not online at all, or don't feel confident enough with technology. We are currently sending out prayers and sermons on paper to 14 people, which is about 1/3 of our regular congregation.

I haven't gone down the line of streaming communion services where I am doing it on my own. There is a theological justification for doing a 'solo' communion - joining in the worship of heaven and the worldwide church, and for my more catholic colleagues it is an offering for the church and the world whether present or not. For me any celebration of communion is a corporate activity - I don't celebrate the eucharist, we celebrate it and the priest presides at the celebration. With no people physically present in the room, that sense is diminished, as well the fact that no one else can contribute in sharing the liturgy, readings, prayers or anything else involved without a level of multi-camera tech I don't possess. Just as with the other streamed acts of worship, I have a discomfort with worship where the human focus is on one person.

Authority

This is going on a bit, so I'll be quicker here. The debate around restrictions sometimes explicitly, and sometimes more subtly raised the questions of authority. The law says that a minister of religion may leave their house to go to a place of worship. It doesn't say just for special occasions, checking the building or for emergencies. Legally clergy can go to their churches to pray on their own, and I presume they could stream a video of it as well, provided they were alone. [Of course the safety of lone working then becomes a question!]

However, the Archbishops have issued two statements here and here making it clear that clergy should not use their buildings. Challenged on Andrew Marr, Justin Welby said that it was guidance, not instruction, although the first letter says that churches "must now be closed not only for public worship, but for private prayer ".

This was bound to activate all the clergy who don't like getting any guidance/instructions from their bishops, even thought they are often the ones who complain about the lack of leadership. However,  there are real problems here. I'm not a church lawyer, but I doubt that Archbishops can easily override the legal right of clergy to prayer in their churches - and what the Archbishop said on the Marr show would support that.

With this perceived uncertainty, there are now letters getting signed about letting clergy back into their churches. Given that it's probably riskier going to Morrison's than to an empty church, personally I don't see why they shouldn't if they really want to; it's already legal.

Rounding Off

There's also a pressure to allow funerals in church again. That's harder, as once church is open for something 'public', it sets a precedent, and also places churches in the role of policing what appropriate social distancing means and potentially having to turn people away at the door.

What has become clear is that covid-19 has shaken up our entire way of life, and the church has not been immune. Along with all other aspects of life, we have had to learn new things, and have perhaps been reminded of the importance of community and relationship in a fresh way. We need to turn our energy away from claiming our rights within the life of the church, and concentrate instead on what it means to be the church for the wider world in this time of crisis.

This time will pass, and many of our previous ways will return, and others won't and shouldn't. In the meantime we need to pray for the wisdom to know the difference between the two.

Funerals and Lockdown

After nearly 30 years in ordained ministry I have lost count of how many funerals I have taken. Over time I realised that whilst the vast majority of people have only attended a few (if any funerals), within a year I had been to more than most people do in a lifetime. That's also true of funeral directors, organists, vergers, crematorium and cemetery attendants and of course others who lead services, ceremonies and celebrations.

In my present parish, I don't have large numbers of funerals to deal with - in 2019 there were 18. They don't all come in at regular intervals, and winter is usually busier than the summer. However, things are starting to feel a bit different. I took a funeral on Friday, and I have 5 more booked in the diary for the next 2 weeks. Our local funeral director said they had 13 ceremonies in their diary for this week, which was significantly busier than usual for this time of year, and altogether they were dealing with 35 families. 

I appreciate that it's not a representative sample, but it does seem to correlate with what is happening nationally. More people are dying than would be expected, based on statistics from previous years - whether from covid-19 or for other reasons - and we will see the consequences for some time yet. 

What makes this all the more painful is that bereaved families can't be given the support and attention we would usually want to provide. Funeral directors and ministers alike are unable to visit people in their homes, and have to do everything by phone or video call. Likewise there are restrictions at funeral services - only a few can attend and there can be no singing of hymns/songs. One of the most difficult issues is that some crematoria won't even allow a small gathering in the chapel, whereas others (such as our local one) do. I am sure that many grieving people will be frustrated, disappointed and even angry at the limitations that have been imposed.

Friday was my first experience of the new regulations. We had prepared the service by phone and email, so I had very good information to work with. I met the relatively small family group at the cemetery, and greeted them from a distance, and everyone stood apart in their household groups. The deceased was a Roy Orbison fan, so we even managed to play Pretty Woman on my bluetooth speaker at the end. Again, as everyone left, I could only say goodbye from a distance. Luckily the sun shone.

One things that struck me afterwards was that my funeral director colleagues have to take more risks. Not only do they have to regard every body as potentially infected, and take precautions accordingly, they are not able to keep to all of the distancing guidelines. Some of them have to travel together, and you can't keep 2m apart carrying a coffin from a car to a graveside. Unseen and unnoticed until you really need them, they are all working hard behind the scenes to help in a key role during this crisis.

I was also very aware that people often write down what they would like to happen at their funeral, and in many cases this won't be possible to fulfil. Once the crisis period is over, and we're in the recovery phase, I suspect that a lot of people will have a kind of renewed grieving period, when they are able to spend time with family and friends, gather to remember, hold memorial services, and try to fulfil the wishes of loved ones they have lost. Those of us in roles that can help at such a time will need to be ready.

So please spare a prayer or a thought for the funeral directors, the mortuary, cemetery and crematorium staff, the ministers of religion, civil celebrants, humanists and others who lead funeral ceremonies. Most of all remember those who have lost loved ones in this period, many of whom will feel that they have more to do, in order to do justice to the memory of the person they have lost.

The mathematics of pandemics

There's been a lot of coverage on how people are still not getting the message about keeping your distance and minimising contact with others. I guess a lot of people are wondering what difference their contribution might make - even if they were infectious. And anyway, isn't it all like flu which comes round every year?

“If you are irresponsible enough to think that you don’t mind if you get the flu, remember it’s not about you - it’s about everybody else.”

Intensive care specialist Professor Hugh Montgomery explains why this coronavirus is different from the ordinary flu. pic.twitter.com/h9sQorHQUv

— Channel 4 Dispatches (@C4Dispatches) March 22, 2020

If you haven't got time to watch the video, or you didn't follow it, here's the calculation.

On average someone with flu infects 1.3 people (OK there's no such thing as 1.3 people, but it's an average)

If that infection process happens 10 times over then 1.3x1.3..  [ten times over] = 13.78. Let's call it 14.

On the video he says flu infects 1.3-1.4 on average. Put 1.4 in the equation and you get 28.9. Let's call that 29. That's double.

But if a virus is more easily transmitted, each person with it will infect more. Let's see what happens if a bug meant each infected person passed it on to 2 more people, and that happened 10 times over

2 x 2 = 4
2 x 2 x 2 = 8
...
2 x 2 x 2 x 2 x 2 x 2 x 2 x 2 x 2 x 2 = 1024

According to Professor Montgomery, with covid-19 the it's 3 people. And if you put 3 into the calculation, you get:

59049

That's right. Over 59,000 people infected. And that's why it's important to close off as many avenues as possible for this thing to spread.

Sermon for Mothering Sunday / Lent 4 / the day the churches closed

I didn't actually preach this - I posted it on our church's website. It isn’t the sermon I would have preached if we had actually held a Mothering Sunday service. However, it seemed the right thing to be saying in the present circumstances.

Psalm 34:11-20  is one of the psalms set for Mothering Sunday

¹¹ Come, my children, and listen to me;

   I will teach you the fear of the Lord.

¹² Who is there who delights in life

   and longs for days to enjoy good things?

¹³ Keep your tongue from evil

   and your lips from lying words.

¹⁴ Turn from evil and do good;

   seek peace and pursue it.

¹⁵ The eyes of the Lord are upon the righteous

   and his ears are open to their cry.

¹⁶ The face of the Lord is against those who do evil,

   to root out the remembrance of them from the earth.

¹⁷ The righteous cry and the Lord hears them

   and delivers them out of all their troubles.

¹⁸ The Lord is near to the brokenhearted

   and will save those who are crushed in spirit.

¹⁹ Many are the troubles of the righteous;

   from them all will the Lord deliver them.

²⁰ He keeps all their bones,

   so that not one of them is broken.   (NRSV)

Most experiences in life contain some mixed emotions. I remember taking my Uncle Jack’s funeral. When I was talking to my aunt in preparation, she was adamant that I must include a funny story at his expense. He was a builder, and the story featured a entertaining encounter he had with a vicar when doing work at his church. As a new curate, being a clergyperson was now my profession, so it made it all the more amusing. Over the years since, I have known quite a few funerals to feature laughter mixed up with the tears. In the midst of the sadness of letting go, it affirms that the person we’re remembering had a sense of humour, did and said funny things, and brought us joy.

Likewise, a happy event can have its poignant side. The birth of my first granddaughter Ava is an overwhelmingly happy thing, and every picture I see of her makes me smile. But every now and then I catch a glimpse of something in her face that is a hint of the granny she will never know, and I feel a slight twinge of sadness that she will never know Debbie, and that we can’t share the experience of this new little person together. It doesn’t last long, and it certainly doesn’t spoil the joy, but I can’t deny that the feeling is there.

And so it is with Mothering Sunday – almost universally called Mother’s Day in the rest of the country. In the church, we might protest that it’s really about mother church, the mothering attributes of God, or in more catholic traditions a chance to talk about the Virgin Mary. But for most people, it is about mothers, and the uncomfortable truth is that celebrating mothers and motherhood in a church service [or the wider community] is emotionally complicated.

It’s tough on those who have lost their mothers. Those of us who are older may feel it less. For example, my mum was 80 when she died 10 years ago, she’d had a good life, and we were on good terms when it happened. It was a sudden shock when she died, but it has never made Mothering Sunday difficult for me, apart from a slightly odd feeling when I don’t need to buy a card. And I’m old enough for it to be relatively normal not to have one or both parents still with us. But it’s hard for those, who like my own children have lost their mum whilst still young, and are perhaps reminded not only of who they lost, but the times and celebrations that can no longer be shared.

Of course, losing a parent doesn’t always mean that they have died. Over the years I have known a lot of people who have had difficult or problematic relationships with their mothers, or were effectively abandoned by them. Some have even been abused by them. If we idealise motherhood in our Mothering Sunday celebrations in church, we risk alienating many who are present.

There are also those who have lost children, for whom the day might be a painful time, as they reflect on a child who has never been there to send a card or gift. And there are also women who have no children – either by choice, or infertility. Again, if we idealise the status of motherhood, what does that imply about those women who have not become mothers, or have lost their children?

From this you can see that planning worship for Mothering Sunday is not a straightforward as you might first think. How do we bring that complex mix of feelings to God? How do we worship Him, pray to Him, and learn from Him in a way that does at least some justice to everyone’s feelings and expectations?

That’s why I feel it is always important to acknowledge those difficulties that some people may have before going into anything more celebratory. The Christian community should be a place where that mix of emotions and experiences and stories can be brought and acknowledged together, and we should be able to do that without trampling on people’s grief and sadness, and also without simply appearing to be spoilsports. God wants us to pray and worship with honesty, integrity, and with compassion for those around us.

One of the great things about the great book of poetry in the Old Testament that we call the Psalms is that it contains the whole spectrum of human emotions right up next to each other – often in the same psalm. There’s love, hate, praise, penitence, anger, reassurance, peace, violence, desire for reconciliation, thanksgiving and more. Some psalms praise God in great adulation; others accuse God of being deaf and uncaring about His people. In this psalm you can see that range: the righteous, those who do evil and the brokenhearted are all mentioned.  There’s a recognition that life is hard, even for the faithful, although there is hope of ultimate deliverance.

Whatever state we are in, we need reminding of the emotions of others. It’s perhaps more obvious that those who are caught up in joy and thanksgiving should be aware of and sensitive to the needs of those who are grieving and hurting. Perhaps less obvious is that sorrow and despair also needs challenging. I once heard a story about a group Jews in a Nazi concentration camp meeting behind one of the sheds and praising God. They couldn’t possibly have done so in those circumstances as a result of any sense of happiness; the situation was so desperately bleak. Rather, it was suggested that this was more like protest. It meant facing fear, despair, sorrow and destruction and saying that their spirits would not be completely overwhelmed by it. Perhaps there are times when we are brought low – in much less drastic and dramatic ways - when we need some encouragement to protest against despair, and also be challenged by those who already do.

So on this strange COVID-19 Mothering Sunday when we cannot meet for a service of worship, maybe that’s the thought to take away with us. Many of us will feel despair at the way our lives have become unrecognisable compared to what they were only 2 or 3 weeks ago. Perhaps some of us are feeling a complex mix of emotions because of the nature of today - Mothering Sunday. Quite possibly some of us are separated from our mothers by geography or self-isolation, which would not have been factors a few weeks ago, and feel a new and different sense of loss: the loss of contact.

If we are brought low by all of this, it maybe that we need to protest with a song of praise. A song that defies the pressures and factors that bring us low and make us less than what we actually are. In defiance of a narrative that brings fear and shrinks our lives and world, perhaps the message of today is to praise, to marvel at the expanse of the universe and the diversity of creation, and to praise the God who is its source. 

And if we are still in good spirits and feeling positive, perhaps we need to encourage and lift up (metaphorically and with no contact, of course!) those around us, show compassion to those who are despairing, and continue to hold out the hope that come what may, we are loved and valued by God, and He has not deserted us. As our ancient poet said in the psalm:

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted

   and will save those who are crushed in spirit.”