Sermon: 24th Sunday after Pentecost

 Sermon: 24^th Sunday after Pentecost

St Thomas, Rondebosch | Licensing of Layministers

7 November 2021 – Archdeacon Mark Long

Hebrews 9:24-28, Psalm 127, and Mark 12:38-44; NRSV

I am here today on behalf of the Bishop of Table Bay, Bishop Joshua Louw, to license the Layministers of this Parish, and as Archdeacon to admit them to their Office. For all it is a renewal as the Acts of our Diocese require that Layministers participate in ongoing training and their ministries are reviewed every three years by the Rector. Licensed lay ministry is specific to the liturgical and pastoral needs of the Parish, and those called into this service are nominated by the Rector and Parish Council who attest to their faithfulness, integrity and knowledge. Your Layministers are, therefore, women and men whom you can trust. We are all called through Baptism to share in the ministry of Christ and in Christ’s mission to the world; and it is within this broader call that your Layministers are licensed with the Church’s authority to engage with specific responsibilities in the areas of worship and care. 

There are a number of key words that I have used: faithfulness, integrity, knowledge; service, authority, responsibility. These are all words that speak into the nature of leadership, specific today in the context of your faith community, but relevant, too, to our broader social context. The challenge for those of you whose licenses are being renewed today is to hold these words, to give them content and context for the  ministry and mission of Christ here at St Thomas, remembering always that our mission as God’s people lies beyond the walls of this building: it is resident in our families, our social networks, our work spaces, and the broader world in which we live. 

As God’s people seeking to live out the ministry and mission of Christ we are called to live differently, specifically we are called to live in opposition to generally accepted social norms particularly when it comes to the use of power. The reality of this call is initially formed in us through our worship and pastoral care, which makes the role you as Layministers will play alongside your Rector in these areas of responsibility so crucial. But what is power? In essence it is the ability to act, a human ability we all have. The important question is are we using this ability creatively or destructively? Are our actions life-giving or life-threatening? And how is power being used both in our community of faith and also in the political and economic structures we participate in daily? How are we learning to use power justly in our times of worship together and in our pastoral care of one another? How is this learning translating into our mission to the world, in ensuring power is used justly in our social, political, and economic environment? And where power is misused or abused, what is our responsibility as God’s people? The answers to these questions are what we grapple with as we engage in liturgy, with Scripture, as we immerse ourselves in the Sacraments, and as we gather for fellowship. We live out these answers as we reach out to one another and the world with caring and love. And this is why it is so important that those who are licensed to serve with the Church’s authority in these areas of responsibility are people of faithfulness, integrity, and knowledge. 

If power is to be used justly, what is justice? Today’s reading from Mark’s Gospel perhaps offers us a few clues. Jesus touches on what unjust use of power looks like when he says of the Scribes, “They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.”[1] Due to the fact that women had few rights in Jewish society in the 1^st century, it is likely that one of the roles of the Scribes was to hold the property of widows – without male heirs – in trust and run their affairs for them. The implication of Jesus’ comment is that certain of these Scribes lack integrity and abuse their powers and profit to the point of leaving these widows destitute[2]. It is not difficult to see the injustice of this practice, nor is it difficult to see similar injustices in our own context. It is not difficult to imagine that the widow Jesus calls the disciples attention to outside the Treasury is one such widow who has been left destitute by a Scribe’s misuse of power over her. What is intriguing here is that while the widow has had everything taken from her, she chooses to give what is left, “… all she had to live on”[3] or – a more direct translation from the Greek – she chooses to give “her whole life.”[4] What this highlights is that, “There is a difference between giving everything and having everything taken away.”[5] Importantly, although the systemic injustice that allows some Scribes to misuse their power has lost the widow almost everything, it has not removed her agency; she still has power – the ability to act – and does so by giving “her whole life.” Injustice seeks to remove agency, justice restores it. 

My challenge to those of you being licensed today is to explore, together with your Rector, what agency looks like in the context of Worship and Pastoral Care, and to be courageous in creating spaces that allow people to discover their power, to use that power justly; to care for people in such a way that their agency and humanity is not diminished, but increased. Begin by exploring what this means for you as individuals and as the liturgical and pastoral team here at St Thomas’, what it is to wash one another’s feet. Be cautious of exercising your authority in any manner that may diminish people’s humanity or limit God’s power to act in and through you and in and through others, but also avoid false modesty. Embrace your fear or anxiety, and be the example to others that God is calling you to be, and which the Church affirms through the licenses you receive today. 

Hold close the following words by Marianne Williamson (incorrectly attributed to Nelson Mandela), 

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.

 

We ask ourselves:

 

Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?

 

Actually, who are you not to be?

 

You are a child of God.

Your playing small does not serve the world.

There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people

won't feel insecure around you.

We are all meant to shine, as children do.

We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.

 

It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine,

we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.

 

As we are liberated from our own fear,

our presence automatically liberates others.[6] 

In closing, a prayer by Irish Theologian and Poet, Pádraig Ó Tuama: 

Let us pray, 

Uncovered Jesus,

You washed

the feet of your friends

with your hands.

We do not know what to do

with this kind of love

or this kind of power

so we repeat it once a year.

May we repeat it more often:

every month; every day; every hour; every encounter.

Because this is how you chose to show

love and power

to your friends.

Amen.[7]

---

[1] Mark 12:40; NRSV

[2] Amanda Probst-Renaud, Commentary on Mark 12:38-44, https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-32-2/commentary-on-mark-1238-44-6

[3] Mark 12:44b; NRSV

[4] Amanda Probst-Renault, Ibid.

[5] Ibid.

[6] Marianne Williamson, A Return To Love: Reflections on the Principles of a Course in Miracles

[7] Pádraig Ó Tuama, Daily Prayer with the Corrymeela Community.

Sermon: All Saints

 Sermon: All Saints

30 October 2021 – Archdeacon Mark Long

Revelation 7:9-11, Canticle 5, and Matthew 5:1-12; NRSV 

In my sermon two weeks ago I reminded us, “… that God’s people are called to live differently, are called to live in opposition to generally accepted social norms [particularly] when it comes to the use of power.”[1] Today, as we celebrate All Saints Day, this remains an important awareness. In essence, as I’ve said on previous occasions, power is the ability to act, a human ability we all have. The question is are we using this ability creatively or destructively? Are our actions life-giving or life-threatening? And how is power being used in the political and economic structures we participate in daily? How are we working to ensure power is used justly in our social environment? And where power is misused or abused, what is our responsibility as God’s people? What does it mean to be a saint? 

Our Gospel reading today is a well-known passage, one we have named The Beatitudes, which in Matthew’s Gospel are effectively presented as a manifesto of the kingdom Jesus is inaugerating.[2] This kingdom calls for humanity’s transformation and seeks to address the brokenness of the human condition, and in place of our fractured humanity offers hope and the fullness of life. Jesus has begun drawing a prophetic community together to give agency to this newly inaugurated kingdom,[3] and The Beatitudes give a two-fold focus to the community’s task: a focus on those who experience various forms of oppression, and on those who are targeted for their integrity.[4] Too often we misinterpret The Beatitudes to suggest that suffering and persecution are somehow badges of Sainthood, but if in fact The Beatitudes are a manifesto of the this newly inaugurated kingdom then The Beatitudes are instead an important announcement of a reversal of fortunes for the oppressed.[5] Situations of hopelessness are no longer hopeless, but hope-filled. The community Jesus calls together – of which you and I are now a part – are invited to be participants in implementing this reversal, to be a prophetic sign of this kingdom within the social, political, and economic context of our daily lives. 

How are we to be this sign? The answer may lie in verse 4 that says, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” The Greek word translated “comfort” here is not primarily about solace or consolation, but more along the lines of representation in legal terms: they will be given an advocate[6] who will work for their recognition and restitution, someone who will ensure those who mourn are comforted and those who are hungry are fed; that the merciful themselves experience mercy from others, and that the poor in spirit receive the kingdom of heaven; that the pure in heart get to see God, and the peacemakers are recognised as children of God. This is exciting stuff, a manifesto to set our hearts aflame, but also one that perhaps has us asking if we have the wherewithal to be this prophetic sign? And is it just up to us? You may have noticed the use of the passive voice in the manner in which some of The Beatitudes are stated, and I think there is purpose in this as it leaves the question of advocacy open-ended and allows for both human and divine agency.[7] My thoughts are immediately drawn to John’s Gospel where we hear that the Holy Spirit is given to us as the Paraclete, the advocate whose advocacy will bring us comfort. However it is clear in Matthew’s Gospel that it is the prophetic community initiated in Jesus’ calling aside of the first disciples – to whom he says, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people”[8] – that is called to work hand-in-hand with the Spirit of God in this endeavour, and again I emphasise that you and I are participants in this community. Raj Nadella, Professor of New Testament at Columbia Theological Seminary, importantly highlights that “The Beatitudes offer a promise of liberation to those at the margins of our society. They also invite and require anyone and everyone with privilege and power to participate in the process of making the promised liberation a reality.”[9] To be a part of the prophetic community inaugurated by Jesus is in itself a privilege and an empowered position, and lays responsibility on our shoulders to advocate at every opportunity for the oppressed and persecuted in partnership with the Spirit of God. However, the afflicted themselves have agency, and we need to ensure our advocacy never inhibits the oppressed from participating in their own liberation.[10] The Church is called to offer a supportive advocacy that always seeks to give dignity to those who suffer, and not make them only objects of our compassion as we work with them and the Spirit of God in facilitating the reversal of fortune that Jesus promises in The Beatitudes. 

In reality we are called to align ourselves with those on the margins of our society, and any advocacy we offer may and most likely will draw us into experiencing the suffering of the oppressed and marginalised to various degrees ourselves, and perhaps we can only truly recognise their agency when we become deeply aligned with their pain. And in so doing we also need to acknowledge that while our society, and our political and economic environment marginalizes so many, the Church is often guilty of religious marginalisation of people and is complicit in the suffering and oppression around us. We are called ourselves to repentance and transformation, and it is only in recognising our complicity and allowing the transforming presence of God’s Spirt to renew us that we can truly be effective in the work of reconciliation in our world. 

What does it mean to be a saint? It is to align ourselves with the marginalised, to participate in the process of liberation for the oppressed, to work every moment of every day towards a greater expression of the fullness of life offered in and through the death and resurrection of Jesus, and to commit to facilitating a just use of power as a creative reality for ourselves and for others. 

We have a practical opportunity to exercise our sainthood tomorrow in the local elections. Will you exercise your democratic right? And if you do, how will your vote align with The Beatitudes, with the manifesto of God’s kingdom in our imperfect world? Please vote, and vote wisely! 

In closing, a prayer by Irish Theologian and Poet, Pádraig Ó Tuama: 

Let us pray, 

Uncovered Jesus,

You washed

the feet of your friends

with your hands.

We do not know what to do

with this kind of love

or this kind of power

so we repeat it once a year.

May we repeat it more often:

every month; every day; every hour; every encounter.

Because this is how you chose to show

love and power

to your friends.

Amen.[11]

---

[1] Mark Long, 20211017 Sermon 21st Sunday after Pentecost ML

[2] Raj Nadella, Commentary on Matthew 12:1-5,  https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/all-saints-sunday/commentary-on-matthew-51-12

[3] Matthew 4:18-22; NRSV

[4] Raj Nadella, Ibid.

[5] Ibid.

[6] Ibid.

[7] Ibid.

[8] Matthew 4:19b; NRSV

[9] Raj Nadella, Ibid.

[10] Ibid.

[11] Pádraig Ó Tuama, Daily Prayer with the Corrymeela Community.

Sermon: 21st Sunday after Pentecost

 Sermon: 21^st Sunday after Pentecost

17 October 2021 – Archdeacon Mark Long

Hebrews 5:1-10, Psalm 104:1-10, 35-36, and Mark 10:35-45; NRSV

I am sure today’s reading from Mark’s Gospel is not unfamiliar to most of us, especially as this account – with minor tweaks – is also echoed in Matthew’s Gospel. As we hear James and John’s request to be seated on Jesus’ right and left our minds jump quickly to Jesus’ response even before we hear the words read. We know that James and John will not be offered what they desire, that their asking will lead to conflict with the other disciples, and that Jesus will use it as a teaching moment where we will again be asked to wrap our minds around the paradoxical thought that power lies not in holding positions of influence but rather in service, and to be first is to be last and to be last is to be first. 

Not for the first time we are reminded that God’s people are called to live differently, are called to live in opposition to generally accepted social norms when it comes to the use of power. Jesus’ reference to the Gentiles would have been to the Roman rulers and those aligned with them, and was an unsubtle critique of the tyrannical abuse of power by those who ruled Jewish society on behalf of Rome. Mark is asking us to recognise the discomforting nature of Jesus’ teaching, that to be in the service of God is to address the misuse of power that benefits those who are first at the expense of those who are last, that benefits the wealthy at the expense of the poor. 

What is intriguing about this interaction is that it follows on directly from Jesus’ third foretelling of his death and resurrection in Mark’s Gospel, where he will be condemned to death by the chief priests and scribes, handed over to the Gentiles who will mock, denigrate, torture and kill him.[1] How do the disciples, not just James and John, but all of them miss the significance of this? I can understand them not grasping the reference to resurrection, but Jesus words concerning dying must have been clear? Did they choose to ignore what Jesus was saying, or were his words just so left-field that they chose not to process them in their desire to see social change and economic justice enacted in their time on their terms? They seemed to keep missing that the transformation Jesus’ was seeking to inaugurate – while inclusive of their own hopes and dreams for their context – offered not just change and momentary justice, but more: a different pattern of relationship for humanity. And two millennia later we still struggle to truly comprehend the beauty of life offered in the words of John’s Gospel: “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly. I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.”[2] 

In our own time we are living in a convergence of politics, protest, and a pandemic; we are living in the midst of individual, collective, and global trauma; in the midst of merging crises; and we should not be surprised that everything we do, everything we believe in, is called into question either by ourselves or by others.[3] And just like James and John and the other disciples we are struggling to keep up. Our faith is not disconnected from the challenges of our times and the Church as institution is not immune to justified criticism. We are faced with the discomforting question as to whether the  “institutionalization of the church, the colonializing of the calling of Jesus, the growth of numeric Christianity, really was the providence of God or actually an extremely long detour from our true mission.”[4] We struggle with the reality that the institutional Church as we know it needs to die: the Church’s alignment with secular power since the 4^th century has caused us all too often to legitimise the social misuse of power, and the Church rightly finds itself called-out for aiding and abetting colonialism and other forms of social, economic and political abuses of power and the related discrimination, othering, and exclusion of the poor from our structures. 

I speak here more generally of the Church, not necessarily our particular community or local experience of Church. However, even as Anglicans in Southern Africa and as members of the local Church in Newlands, we need to be awake to our times and open to hearing the challenge of today’s Gospel passage, to commit to “hold hands with humility” and not to “partner with power”.[5] We need to rediscover the courage to ensure our lives and faith are aligned with the Gospel imperative to love. If our faith is to engender hope in ourselves and in others it is because we are committed to a sacrificial love, a love that embraces serving others, a love that relinquishes power, a love that is willing to give itself as a ransom for many.[6] While we naturally in such extraordinary times as these seek comfort in and through our faith, that comfort paradoxically is often only found through discomfort as we allow the Spirit of God access to our hearts, minds, and our very beings; as we open ourselves to the purposes and call of God in our own generation; as we embrace the hope offered us in the opening chapter of Mark’s Gospel: 

“The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”[7] 

These words are a reminder that God is present, God is with us, we are not alone. In these times of ongoing difficulty, trauma, hardship and heart-ache God is with us in the chaos. We are called to trust in God’s presence, to be available to God’s purposes, to be open to the leading of God’s Spirit, in our own brokenness to be God’s hands and feet in our world. 

In closing, a prayer by Irish Theologian and Poet, Pádraig Ó Tuama: 

Let us pray, 

God of all humanity,

…

we see how inhuman we can be.

 

We pray for those who, today, are weighed down by grief.

We pray for those who, yesterday, were weighed down by grief.

 

And the day before,

and all the days before the day before.

 

We pray, too, for those who help us turn towards justice and peace.

 

Turn us all towards justice and peace

because we need it.

 

Amen.[8]

---

[1] Mark 10:33-34; NRSV

[2] John 10:10-11; NRSV

[3] Karoline Lewis, Crises Preaching, https://www.workingpreacher.org/dear-working-preacher/preaching-in-the-midst-of-merging-crises

[4] Russ Dean, “The Church Is Called to Die,” Opinion published on Baptist News Global. Sept. 21, 2021. https://baptistnews.com/article/the-church-is-called-to-die/

[5] Ibid.

[6] Mark 10:45; NRSV

[7] Mark 1:15; NRSV

[8] Pádraig Ó Tuama, Daily Prayer with the Corrymeela Community.

Sermon: Season of Creation (Week 4)

 Sermon: Season of Creation

Week 4 – Pray and act for our Common Home

26 August 2021 – Archdeacon Mark Long

Esther 7: 1-6, 9-10, 9: 20-22, Psalm 124, and Mark 9:38-50; NRSV

Over the last few weeks, during this Season of Creation, we have been given the opportunity to reflect on how we engage with the systems and structures that direct and control our society, and ultimately impact on creation itself. As I expressed in my sermon last week, this requires people of faith to be a constant witness against the economies of exclusion, and that exclusion is at the root of injustice in our world. Today we are asked to reflect on what it means to pray and act on behalf of our common home. What does prayer and action look like in a world where “[w]e face multiple crises of poverty, inequality, biodiversity loss and the climate crisis[; where w]e have a short window … in which to turn from well worn, broken paths and choose a better story for ourselves and for the world”?[1] 

We are presented in our first reading with the essence of the story of Esther. Esther, a Jew of the Diaspora and a minority orphan trafficked into child concubinage and groomed for the sexual pleasure of the Persian King, Ahasuerus, unexpectedly finds herself Queen. Through her unexpected influence and skilled manipulation of the King she is able to avert the genocide of her people.[2] We may wish to ask how a person such as Esther, a Jewish orphan, “the least powerful member (orphan) of the least powerful gender (female) of a powerless people (Jews) in the mighty Persian Empire”[3] manages to turn the world on its head? Part of the answer is that when God desires to act it is generally and inexplicably through the seemingly weakest link: it is true of Esther, it is true of Mary, it is true of many people throughout history; those whom the powers of the day discount are all too often the originators of socio-economic and political upheaval. The multiple crises of our own times can be similarly affected, and despite the Church being side-lined and insignificant in the broader scheme of the 21^st century, as people of faith we may yet turn our world on its head. In this story of Esther we see something of what prayer and action may look like. 

Today’s Gospel reading offers similar hope. Mark’s Gospel reminds us that discipleship is not for the feint of heart: it is a tough and difficult journey that demands much of us. Today’s reading is not an easy one, and as one commentator adroitly comments, “It contains most things that drive the conscientious into a slough of despondence: exorcisms (verse 38); multiple disturbances in the Greek text, footnoted in responsible English translations (verses 42, 44, 45, 46, 49); hard sayings of Jesus (verses 39-41) that are logically incoherent (verses 48–50) or manifestly outrageous (verses 42-47).”[4] And yet this Scripture passage gives helpful insight into how people of faith – you and me – how we might pray and act. We find the disciples seeking Jesus’ approval of their limited definition of belonging as they report in about someone not of their group exorcising demons in Jesus’ name. Jesus’ response is instructive: “Do not stop [them]; ... Whoever is not against us is for us.”[5] I can only but imagine the look on their faces, and their subsequent protestations in hearing those words. However, for us “[a]dhering to the spirit of [these words] stresses [the importance of] gracious reception of anyone whose action, bold or modest, genuinely conforms to Jesus’ character”[6] and asks of us that our actions equally conform. The lack of social, political, and economic justice in the world suggests that such inclusivity is the hardest of actions, and that it is not through our own strength, but only through the presence of God’s Spirit and our openness to God’s Spirit, that such justice is possible. 

In Mark’s Gospel authentic prayer and just action also require what appears ‘manifestly outrageous’, “If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off; … And if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off; … And if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out … .”[7] Hearing these words, we do of course need to remind ourselves that in Mark’s Gospel Jesus’ speaks often in parables,[8] and while we may be tempted to be scandalised by these words we need to recognise that Jesus is not advocating for literal self-mutilation.[9] While encouraging us to be inclusive of others in our conformity to Jesus character, Mark here is also highlighting that Jesus calls us to a vigorous discipleship that rejects any form of abuse, either of ourselves or of others – and in the context of the Season of Creation – of the broader aspects of Creation. 

In the context of our theme on this 4^th Sunday in the Season of Creation we are being asked to apply these Scriptural principles to our life on the African continent and on a global scale. What might prayer and action for our common home, and in this context our African home, look like? Abundant Africa, a development process and coalition of organisations working towards the transformation of Africa funded by Tearfund says in a recent report, “Some say that Africa is failing, doomed to chaos and poverty and reliance. Others say that Africa is rising, but as a slave to a narrative of greed, power, violence, individualism and extraction, to the benefit of just a few. We see another way - a courageous choice to turn from these two single stories and tell a new story, one created by the agency and voices of all African citizens: an Abundant Africa. An Abundant African economy could be built upon shalom, upon African values of innovation, freedom and relationship. It could reduce poverty and inequality, honour human dignity, care for creation – and in so doing be an economy that will lead the world.”[10] 

I find this an inspiring vision, no matter which continent or nation one may wish to apply it, but especially for Africa; and part of the inspiration for me is that it reflects the principles of faith, and of our journey through this Season of Creation. It is also an impossible vision, as impossible as Esther’s averting the Jewish genocide by the Persians, as impossible as the miracle of 1994 was for South Africa, as impossible as any diverted disaster throughout the course of history may have seemed; but with God all things are possible, and that needs to be the focus of our prayer. 

Let us find the courage to act and to pray, and trust that however bold or modest such prayers and actions may be, that God will transform the humanly impossible into the humanly possible. Let that be our hope, and our consolation. 

I close with a prayer of shelter and shadow by Irish Theologian and Poet, Pádraig Ó Tuama: 

Let us pray,

 

~ It is in the shelter of each other that the people live.

~ It is in the shadow of each other that the people live.

 

We know that sometimes we are alone,

and sometimes we are in community.

 

Sometimes we are in shadow,

and sometimes we are surrounded by shelter.

 

Sometimes we feel like exiles –

in our land, in our languages and in our bodies.

And sometimes we feel surrounded by welcome.

 

As we seek to be human together,

may we share the things that do not fade:

generosity, truth-telling, silence, respect and love.

 

And may the power we share

be for the good of all.

 

We honour God, the source of this rich life.

An we honour each other, story-full and lovely.

 

Whether in our shadow or our shelter,

may we live well

and fully

with each other.

Amen.[11]

---

[1] Abundant Africa - https://abundant.africa/

[2] Working Preacher, Commentary on Esther 7: 1-6, 9-10, 9: 20-22, https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-26-2/commentary-on-esther-71-6-9-10-920-22-5

[3] Sidnie White Crawford, “Esther,” In Women’s Bible Commentary, 3d ed., Carol A. Newsom, Sharon H. Ringe, Jacqueline Lapsley, eds. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2012), page 203

[4] C. Clifton Black, Commentary on Mark 9:38-50, https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-26-2/commentary-on-mark-938-50

[5] Luke 9:38-40; NRSV

[6] C. Clifton Black, Ibid.

[7] Mark 9:43-47; NRSV

[8] Mark 4:33; NRSV

[9] C. Clifton Black, Ibid.

[10] Abundant Africa, Ibid.

[11] Pádraig Ó Tuama, Daily Prayer with the Corrymeela Community.

Spring Newsletter 2021: Article

 The Long View: Spring 2021

Dear Friends 

It is amazing how much happens in a year, and that despite the ongoing challenges of our times, we manage to remain resilient and find ways to be creative. A year ago I was feeling like I was running up an escalator the wrong way, and at best marking time as the world sped past me in the opposite direction. The last eighteen months have marked a huge shift in the way we live, and increasingly we are recognising that this is the ‘new normal’. In a sermon last Autumn I encouraged us to use Winter as a time to slow down, even hibernate, to take time to reflect and allow ourselves to catch up with the changes to our lives that the Covid-19 pandemic has demanded of us, changes we had hoped to be temporary but which remain ongoing. I have tried to follow my own advice, and time away in the Eastern Cape in June and a few days away earlier this month in the Wolseley area have helped, and Dawn and I have appreciated the gift of renewal these times have been for us. 

If you are like me, you have been praying that the Covid-19 virus will magically go away, and that we can step back from the hyper-vigilance the pandemic has forced on us, not to mention the added challenges that lockdowns and various Alert Levels that have constricted our lives and relationships so substantially since March 2020. I came across an article in The Atlantic that made me sit up rather straight with its unequivocal headline: The Coronavirus Is Here Forever. This Is How We Live With It.* It was something of a shock to see something I suspected and was avoiding acknowledging printed in such solid black lettering. It is not often words leap off the screen at me, but these ones did. Once I got past the headline, the article itself proved helpful, and I was particularly struck by the closing paragraph: 

With the flu, we as a society generally agree on the risk we were willing to tolerate. With COVID-19, we do not yet agree. Realistically, the risk will be much smaller than it is right now amid a Delta wave, but it will never be gone. “We need to prepare people that it’s not going to come down to zero. It’s going to come down to some level we find acceptable,” [Julie] Downs [a psychologist who studies health decisions at Carnegie Mellon University] says. Better vaccines and better treatments might reduce the risk of COVID-19 even further. The experience may also prompt people to take all respiratory viruses more seriously, leading to lasting changes in mask wearing and ventilation. Endemic COVID-19 means finding a new, tolerable way to live with this virus. It will feel strange for a while and then it will not. It will be normal. 

What we are seeing around the world as different countries take differing stances to the manner in which attempts have been made to contain the virus is the lack of a global social compact around how we deal with it, and I am comforted that in time this will happen. Vaccination is key to giving us some form of control over the virus – which will undoubtedly make living with the virus easier – but the amount of scaremongering and misinformation that social media in particular thrusts into our awareness makes this something of a pipe dream. Dawn and I are both fully vaccinated, but this scaremongering has its impact, and so I was deeply comforted by a recent blog post by Mags Blackie  (Scientist and Spiritual Director; herself vaccinated) entitled Owning relative uncertainty, ** where she helpfully says that while – as with all medication – we cannot claim it is safe, with all the data we have available to us at the moment the vaccine is unequivocally the better choice. For myself, knowing that with my vaccination the chances of being severely or even fatally infected with Covid-19 are slim, is a great source of consolation. While I continue to trust God for health and salvation, I am also hugely thankful to God for the gift of medical science! 

In a snap survey of Parish Council and our Layminister group, where all but one person have responded, there is a 100% vaccination rate. Hopefully, when our planning survey goes out to you all in early October, a similarly high level of compliance with vaccination protocols will be evident. As we come out of our Winter hibernation and begin to plan for 2022 and a fuller return to in-person Worship and other levels of interaction, we are hopefully able to embrace the virus with less fear and engage more confidently with life. 

I remain thankful for the gift of Scripture in these challenging times, and again commend Philippians 4:4-8 (NRSV) to you: 

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. 

If you haven’t yet done so, I do encourage you to come and join us at 08:00 on a Sunday for our in-person service where we continue to follow Covid-19 sanitising and physical distancing protocols. It does feel different to our pre-Covid gatherings, but there is something very comforting and special about being physically present and participating in-person with others in a time of gathering and worship! 

Blessings

Mark 

* https://www.theatlantic.com/science/archive/2021/08/how-we-live-coronavirus-forever/619783/

** http://www.magsblackie.com/2021/09/15/owning-relative-uncertainty/