THIS UNBEARABLE HOLIDAY: GLIMPSING THE LIGHT | DAVID BRACEWELL

Relieving  Saturday 23rd.  January

 ‘But now, for a brief moment, the Lord our God has been gracious…giving light to our eyes and a little relief in our bondage.’  Ezra 9.8

To be honest, it’s not been a great week. It started with Blue Monday. Cold, broke and riddled with guilt, the nation buries its head in its hands on this darkest of days. It was made worse this year because the virus, which we thought might give us a break at the start of a new year, simply re-doubled its efforts.  The news has been terrible. On Tuesday the death toll from Covid-19 was over 1,400 and on Wednesday it was 1,800. Total deaths are now close to 100,000. I have to remind myself that these statistics are people. People suffering, dying, grieving. And across the country our hospitals are being overwhelmed. I watched Clive Myrie’s reports from the London Royal Free hospital on the BBC evening news and they are harrowing. ‘It’s scary’ said a patient, gasping for air. ‘We’re all scared’ said  Myrie. ‘We’re all scared he repeated, ‘and where is the light?’

Then on Thursday Boris, who has more or less abandoned his trade mark optimism, warned us not to expect any early release from lockdown. We are, it would seem, in for the long haul. Sometimes I feel exasperated by our government with their trademark dithering when all we want is a bit of clarity. However, I’ve had an idea.  Why can’t Boris, Matt and Rishi be given a much deserved break and bring in Professor Van-Tam and Marcus Rashford for a spell? It might make all the difference. Perhaps I should write to The Times about it? 

Nor has the week gone that well at a personal level. The weather has been awful with heavy rain and floods in Derbyshire, putting our daily life-saving walk in jeopardy. Then people keep asking if we’ve had the first jab yet. The question is meant kindly, but don’t they know that it’s the over 80’s first? Or do they know and are assuming we qualify! And now I think I’ve got long Covid. Not medically, but mentally. The first symptoms emerged on New Year’s Eve when I suddenly realised that I hadn’t bought a 2021 diary. Probably the first time without one in 60 years.  Daughter Anna said, ‘It doesn’t matter Dad, you don’t do anything nowadays.’ So true, but so cruel! I took a quick look at the 2021 year planner at the back of the current diary and there was one entry - a visit to the dentist in April. So the days merge into one another, a bland mix of reading, writing, walking, cooking and watching the TV. But here’s the disturbing thing. Just now and again this gentle rhythm is broken by an ‘event’. Nothing seismic: a pre-arranged phone call, a zoom session or a distanced walk in the park with a friend but as the time approaches I begin to feel a bit anxious and once it’s happened I feel quite relieved as I sink back into my comfortable routine. Help! I think I’m becoming institutionalised. 

By the way, I hope all this isn’t depressing you. That is not my intention. My travails are neither here nor there, but the wider picture is alarming. We are indeed ‘in the bleak midwinter’. But there is good news. Principally the vaccine of course and its successful initial roll out. But also infections ae beginning to fall and the R number is below 1.0 again. Stories of magnificent heroism in the NHS continue to emerge, as well as tear- inducing tales of miraculous recoveries. And President Trump has gone!

So I’m left contemplating two questions.

The first one is constantly being asked and is impossible to answer. ‘When will we get out of this mess?’ At this point I do have some sympathy for our leaders because the question is based on the false premise that somehow we are in control of the pestilence and that it can be defeated by clever political decision making.  We aren’t and it can’t. The pestilence is in control. It always has been and it always will be. What we have to do is to stick closely to the rules of lockdown and continue to pray for the vaccine roll out. In extremis this might mean all of us keeping our heads down at whatever cost until the danger passes. I know that the cost is already huge in terms of jobs, financial compensation, mental health and a whole lot more, but if we have Professor Van-Tam and Marcus Rashford on board we might stand a fighting chance! Otherwise we will relax and the sharp-eyed pestilence will surge again. Wasn’t it Einstein who defined madness as doing the same thing over and over again, hoping for a different result? 

The second question does make sense but poses quite a challenge. It’s one that keeps buzzing round my head and to which I keep returning:  ‘How then shall we live?’ I watched every second of Joe Biden’s Inauguration, but was on the edge of my seat when a slender girl, in a radiant yellow dress with an impossible hair style held in place by a vivid red band, stepped to the microphone to read her poem, ‘The Hill We Climb.’ For five minutes we were transfixed by  the National youth poet laureate, Amanda Gorman who, for goodness sake, is only twenty-two

‘When day comes we ask ourselves

Where can we find light in this never ending shade?

…And yet the dawn is ours.’

‘Where can we find light?’ It’s the same question posed by Clive Myrie, and surely by all of us in these dark days. Actually this week didn’t start with Blue Monday but with Sunday when I tuned in to an inspiring sermon based on Ezra chapter nine.  2,500 years ago Ezra, addressing a nation in darkness and bondage, told them that God would give light to their eyes as they looked to him. There it is again, the cry for light in the darkness. At the moment many eyes are being dimmed through fear, through sorrow, through sickness, by despair and in death. ‘Lord bring light to our eyes’ we cry. And he will. Not a floodlight, just a candle.  His purpose is not to unveil a sunny upland in the future where we can be safe, but ‘for a brief moment’ now, today, to offer his presence wherein we can feel secure. His light will rescue us into reality, and be a source of direction and hope to others who come across our path (or more likely our computer screen!)

Every day I use a prayer from the Anglican ‘Common Worship’ book. Not without a sense of guilt because in the front of the book it says, ‘Property of Ridley Hall Cambridge.’ Once I am set free I must return it!

‘As we rejoice in the gift of this new day,

 So may the light of your presence, O God, 

Set our hearts on fire with love for you;

Now and for ever.’