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 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.”