THIS UNBEARABLE HOLIDAY: LOSING | DAVID BRACEWELL

“Do not remember against us the iniquities of our ancestors;

let your compassion come speedily to meet us,

for we are brought very low.”

Psalm 79.8

I’m doing my best to stay positive, I really am. And I do know I have so much for which to be thankful. But I keep coming back to the things that this wretched pestilence has stolen from us.

Multiple Losses

Most obviously our freedom to come and go at will. “Freedom of movement.” I seem to recall that phrase from a distant by-gone age called Brexit. Then it applied to goods and services, and other people. Now it applies to all of us. Sue and I were due to visit friends in America this autumn, but no longer. Most years we have a break in Guernsey at the invitation of our friends Jon and Anna, who lead the church in St. Peter Port. Not this year. We shall miss them and the congregation of Holy Trinity who we have come to love, and the beautiful island of Guernsey.

These are big losses from our calendar, but strangely enough it’s the small local visits that hurt. The regular trip up the road to our local Costa for a quick fix, the surreptitious visit to Waterstones in town to buy another “absolutely essential” paperback. I’m missing being with people which comes as a bit of a surprise. I’m an introvert and have never mastered the art of small talk, but set me free now and I could chatter from England with the first stranger I meet.

These are surface losses, but they hide other, deeper issues: the loss of anticipation for instance. My struggle has been to live in the present moment, but being able to anticipate what lies ahead is also part of our well-being. We call it hope and it is a source of joy. So the questions keep coming, “When will we be able to hug our loved ones?” “When can we hope to share a meal around the kitchen table with friends without keeping 2 metres apart?” “When can Sue and I next wander around Sainsbury’s together?” (I can hardly believe I’m saying that!) “When will we next visit Waitrose in the distant city of Lichfield?” We don’t know. The wonderful faculty of anticipation has been stolen and replaced by mere resignation. This may go on for a year and at 76 I can ill afford to lose a year! I don’t want to spend my twilight days Zooming.

But of course there are far deeper losses still. In England over 34,000 have died at the hands of the virus so far. The pestilence has stolen lives. And it will steal livelihoods. We have yet to count the cost of people made redundant, of businesses disintegrating, of hopes and dreams shattered, of crippling financial hardship. These losses are not an irritation. They are a tragedy of immense magnitude.

Whose Fault Is It?

The Psalmist, contemplating the pestilence he is facing, says: “For we have been brought very low.” (Psalm 79.8). The cry of despair begs the question, “By what, or by whom have we been brought low?” Well, the main contender is a resident bat in Wuhan whose darting flight one day released the virus, directly, or indirectly, into a human being. Or does the fault lie in the cruel policy of selling wild animals for food in a Chinese wet market? Was the spread of the virus assisted by the vital days of delay during which the Chinese authorities were in denial mode? And what of our own government who, under impossible pressure to make consistently good decisions somehow managed to stumble and delay thereby, claim some, causing many needless deaths. We must pray for wisdom for our leaders that they will get things right, but even more we should pray for honesty to own up when they get it wrong. Politicians seem tragically wedded to the notion that saying sorry will somehow undermine their authority. Quite the opposite. Repentance, understanding, renewed support is the more likely sequence. Our leaders are so clever, but so naïve at times. They are, as one commentator has said, “educated out of their minds.” Or is the explanation of our plight simply that that is how the world is. It is a broken world, and things go wrong. Throughout history there have been pandemics causing, in many cases, far greater devastation than we are currently experiencing.

Multiple Blessings

The line between honesty and despair is a fine one, and I think I’m in danger of crossing it. So here are the words of another Psalm: “Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits – who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases…” (Psalm 103). The blessings keep coming to this grouchy old man. Shopping delivered, neighbours reaching out and unexpected phone calls to ask how we are. And time to reflect and think and read and pray, at least for some of us! Even some of the thieving ways of the pestilence could turn out well. I’ve read that shouting can cause the virus to extend its reach up to 14 feet. Imagine a law banning mobile phone conversations on the train! “Hello. It’s me. I’m on the train.” How good would that be!

“We have been brought very low.” Who has brought us low? God alone knows. Now there’s a thought that need pursuing. Where is God in the coronavirus?

But that’s for another day. It’s late and time to switch off the light and sleep.

“I will both lie down and sleep in peace; for you alone, O Lord, make me lie down in safety.”

Psalm 4.8