Two Weeks in Quarantine: Day Fourteen

Yes – it has really happened. Today is day 14 of our quarantine. We have had our final checks, and now we are free to leave – to walk out of the hotel and go free. Without any of the restrictions of the past two weeks, or even those of the past 8½ months.

New Zealand is Covid-free. And – apart from its closed borders – life here is carrying on as normal.

Not so, sadly, in the UK which – as the vaccine is slowly rolled out – continues with its tiered restrictions. And, even when a majority of the population has been vaccinated, life will be very different, and certainly not a return to normal as we have known it.

For Lois and I these restrictions have hardly been more than a minor inconvenience, and I am – once again – aware of how privileged and blessed we are.

For so many people that is not the case. There are so many for whom the pandemic and the lockdown restrictions have brought, and continue to bring, hardship – bereavement, loneliness, loss of their livelihoods; financial struggles, anxiety and stress.

And so, as we walk out of our quarantine hotel, my prayer is – for all whose lives continue to be affected by the pandemic, the advent prayer:

‘The people walking in darkness have seen a great light;

On those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.’

May it be so.

December 6, 2020December 6, 2020

Two Weeks in Quarantine: Day Ten

Sunday 6^th December. Day ten of our quarantine. Second Sunday in Advent.

It struck me today that this would be a good day to ponder what it is I long for. And not just the end of our quarantine, a good walk, home-cooked meals and the chance to see Lois’ family. Nor even just the liberties of being at large in a Covid-free country, no longer constrained by the social distancing, limited activities of a UK lockdown and tiered restrictions.

Advent is a time of waiting and longing. It remembers the longing – 2,000 years ago – of a captive nation waiting for a Messiah to deliver them; and the ongoing longing ever since of countless Christians, waiting for the fulfilment of that vision that was birthed so many centuries ago. Perhaps, too, it gives voice to the longings of all peoples everywhere, for a better world, and the longings of the earth itself to be set free…

So what is it I long for?

It wasn’t difficult to express what I long for an end to:

For an end to the greed and exploitation that causes such inequities both between and within countries;
For an end to the violence and abuse that robs children of their childhoods, that tears families and communities apart;
For an end to the prejudice and hatred that leads to the death of an innocent black man under the knee of a police officer, or the murder of innocent worshippers in a Christchurch mosque;
For an end to the senseless destruction of our planet…

I could go on.

The problem with that is that, if I really stop to think about it, I may not be a terrorist, a millionaire, an abuser, or a corrupt politician, but the same attitudes underlying all of these global issues are there lurking inside me. I, too, enjoy the luxuries of a privileged lifestyle which is only sustainable because of the exploitation of the poor and the planet; I, too, have ingrained attitudes of superiority and mistrust of strangers; I, too, like to have things my way and tend to assert my will over that of others.

So, if I really long for an end to those systemic problems, perhaps it has to start with me.

When I put the question to Lois over our morning coffee, she turned it round and thought about what we long for in a positive sense. What attitudes and behaviours do we really long for, that might bring about the change we want to see in this world?

So here are our suggestions:

For a slower pace of life, all of us taking time to pause, to be present, to pay attention
For a greater connection with nature, each of us taking opportunities to connect with the creation of which we are a part
For hospitality and welcome – that goes beyond mere tolerance and respect, to truly welcome the wonderful mystery that is someone else
For gratitude, appreciating the goodness, truth and beauty that surrounds us.

December 28, 2015December 28, 2015

Refugee: A sonnet for Epiphany by Malcolm Guite

This sonnet by Malcolm Guite brings a contemporary relevance to Herod’s slaughter of the innocents in the first century. Click on the link to listen to the poem.

Refugee

We think of him as safe beneath the steeple,

Or cosy in a crib beside the font,

But he is with a million displaced people

On the long road of weariness and want.

For even as we sing our final carol

His family is up and on that road,

Fleeing the wrath of someone else’s quarrel,

Glancing behind and shouldering their load.

Whilst Herod rages still from his dark tower

Christ clings to Mary, fingers tightly curled,

The lambs are slaughtered by the men of power,

And death squads spread their curse across the world.

But every Herod dies, and comes alone

To stand before the Lamb upon the throne.

December 20, 2015

Where is my God?

Why are you downcast, O my soul?

Why so disturbed within me?

Put your hope in God.

For I will yet praise him, my saviour and my God.

Psalm 42

And yet my soul is troubled. Downcast. I long for something more.

Where is my God?

My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.

Where can I go and meet with God?

I lay in bed last night, troubled and disturbed by judgemental attitudes – in the church and in our society – attitudes that condemn and blame, that offer no hope. That say to the messy, troubled parents at Dudley Lodge[1], or to other young people, pushed out by the very society that condemns them: “You’re not good enough”, “You don’t deserve this.”

But I don’t see that. They are beautiful, mixed-up, traumatised kids who surely deserve something better than what life has dealt them. Surely they deserve a hope and a future – for themselves and their children (and isn’t that, after all, what Dudley Lodge is all about – offering a hope and a future?) Not to be written off, cast down, given up on.

Where is my God for them?

I hate the abuse, the violence, the control that messes people’s lives, that destroys both the abuser and the abused; that says to its victims (abuser and abused), “You are filth, scum. You are no beloved child of God – created, beautiful, in God’s own image. NO – you are worthless, ugly, not worth the bother.”

How can I go “with the multitude, leading the procession to the house of God, with shouts of joy and thanksgiving among the festive throng”?

Where is my God when, behind closed doors, women and children scream out in silence?

And where is my God while the bombs fall on Syria? While hundreds of thousands leave their homes in terror, risking their lives in search of something better? Or stay, amidst the gunfire and explosions, desperately longing for a peace that will not come?

All your waves and breakers have swept over me.

[1] A local family assessment unit where Lois and I have recently started spending some time each week with the residents and their babies.