Peace in the plague

Further to my last post, I wonder whether the bishops and archbishops had seen this before they sent out their instructions. It might have given them pause. It comes from Facebook and I have no reason to believe it's not genuine.

'A friend posted this and I felt it is worth sharing - It comes from an Italian Doctor:

“Even in my worst nightmares, I would never have expected to see and live the events that have occurred in our hospital over the last three weeks. This horror is increasing every day; it’s become unmanageable and we have become ineffective.

At first, only a few people came, then it was hundreds, and now, we are no longer doctors, but selectors… We have to decide who will live, and who will die by sending them home, even though these people have duly paid their taxes in Italy.

Two weeks ago, my colleagues and I were atheists. Belief in science was the norm. And science eliminates God’s presence. I had always laughed at my parents for going to church.

Nine days ago, a 75-year old pastor came to us with severe respiratory problems. He had a Bible and would read passages every day to those who were dying and hold their hands. We were both mentally and physically exhausted, and bitter, but when we had the time we would sit down and listen. We have to admit that, as humans, we have reached our limits, we can’t do any more! More and more people are dying every day. We are exhausted; two of our colleagues have died and others are barely standing. We realised that mankind’s scientific knowledge is limited and that we need God! We started to pray whenever we had a few minutes. It’s incredible, but even as committed atheists, we came to God and found peace! He helps us persevere so we can care for the patients. Yesterday, this 75-year old shepherd passed away. We were devastated as never before (despite having seen 120 deaths over the last week). Because this old shepherd, whilst he was with us, managed to bring back peace to us, a peace I had had no hope of ever finding.

The shepherd has gone to be with the Lord and we will follow soon. I have not gone home for 6 days; I can’t remember when I last ate and I’ve realised how useless I’ve been to people on this earth until now. I want to help others until my last breath. I am glad to have found God and I want to serve him by helping my fellow men until my final breath."

My revered cousin, Sue, whose father was a consultant surgeon and mother a senior nurse, wrote this today: "We have been taught that cleanliness is next to Godliness in importance. Let’s not forget Godliness comes first!" Like her, my sense is that we have lost sight of that and we're the poorer for it, as individuals and as a nation. After all we'll all die some time, but I suspect the peace which that 75-year old "shepherd" brought outlasts even dying.

The silencing of the Church

I was somewhat appalled to read this: "Our church buildings must now be closed not only for public worship, but for private prayer as well and this includes the priest or lay person offering prayer in church on their own. A notice explaining this should be put on the church door (please find template attached). We must take a lead in showing our communities how we must behave in order to slow down the spread of the Coronavirus." Who said this? The Archbishops and Bishops of the Church of England. Apparently it is giving a lead to the rest of society. 

As you may know, for many years I was a priest (technically I still am), and I looked after three churches where prayers had been offered daily for centuries or millennia. Now "Following the Prime Minister’s announcement last night, it is imperative that for the health of the nation and in order for the National Health Service itself to manage the increase in those requiring medical help, the Church of England strictly observes the new guidelines on staying at home and only making journeys that are absolutely necessary, such as shopping for essential items and to take daily exercise." Apparently without demur the Church has agreed that this previous necessary duty of the priest to offer prayers for his parish in the parish church is no longer essential. 

I appreciate that she or he may pray equally from her or his home, and that God does not dwell in buildings. But even so I would have hoped that the Church powers-that-be would have argued to the Government that, if only as a symbol of the essential importance of public prayer at such a time as this, the minimum of a priest praying daily for their community and nation in the central building of that community should continue.  (Maybe they did. If so, it would have shown clergy respect to have said so.)

We may mostly be confined to our homes, but the sign of the vicar or priest still making their way to the church building to pray for the parish and the world every day would be a powerful sign. "Ah, there goes the vicar to pray for us all. Thank Goodness." It is a sign of committed love and care. People notice.   

In my view it's an absolutely necessary journey. I trust that those who continue to make it aren't disciplined by the Church or fined by the State. 

We live in strange times indeed. This week we'll live an one-party state with no checks and balances, answerable to no one. What's more, as my wife and I discovered when we received texts from UK_Gov telling what we "must" and must not do, it's a one-party state which knows all our private telephone numbers. Worryingly, even the Church, which has in the past spoken truth to power, seems to be silently compliant. Perhaps it will in time find its voice. Meanwhile I like the majority of us hope and trust that the Government, which is facing an unprecedented global crisis and has expert advisers - expertise is no longer despised -, is acting in the interests of the common good. And like a good chap stay at home, and muse.

An interesting after-note
A retired judge has pointed out to me that the complete sealing of churches is not the law, simply ecclesiastical guidance. The relevant piece of legislation is this: 
Statutory Instruments
2020 No. 350
Public Health, England
The Health Protection (Coronavirus, Restrictions) (England) Regulations 2020
Made
at 1.00 p.m. on 26th March 2020
Laid before Parliament
at 2.30 p.m. on 26th March 2020
Coming into force
at 1.00 p.m. on 26th March 2020

Further restrictions and closures during the emergency period
5.
(6) A place of worship may be used—
(a)for funerals,
(b)to broadcast an act of worship, whether over the internet or as part of a radio or television broadcast, or
(c)to provide essential voluntary services or urgent public support services (including the provision of food banks or other support for the homeless or vulnerable people, blood donation sessions or support in an emergency).

Anniversary ambitions

This week we celebrated our wedding anniversary. One effect (bonus?) of having a condition like MND is that such occasions take on extra significance. If you have one, you'll know what I mean. As every new day is a gift, so every landmark occasion reached is also a gift. One of the things our local MND Association branch has done for a year or two is send a cheque at New Year to people with MND in the county to spend however they want. It's a lovely gesture, since normally one's preoccupied with the mundane matters of disability.

Emily Watkins (Kingham Plough website)

From the Kingham Plough newsletter

When I received my gift in January, I knew how I wanted to spend it. One of our sons' friend had been involved in filming The Great British Menu and so we had watched it. The chef nearest to us in 2014 was Emily Watkins from The Plough in Kingham, and she won the regional round and in the final week her fish dish was chosen for the war veterans' banquet. As far as one could tell from TV, not only did she cook beautiful food but she also seemed a nice person. One day, I thought, I'd like to take Jane for a meal at her pub.....

What better excuse than a wedding anniversary meal? The whole day exceeded our expectations. It helped that the drive took us through the Cotswolds north of Burford; it helped that the day was sunny; it helped of course that it was our anniversary and we were still in love.

We were shown a table inside near the bar, but decided to sit outside in the sun. We ordered our first course - for me, smoked sea trout "Wellington"; for Jane, home-made coppa with broad bean and radish salad and three times cooked potato wedges. The bread, while we waited, was, I imagine, artisan-baked, delicious. We were surprised and delighted when Emily brought out the smoked sea trout. I'm not a gourmet or a food critic, and I have never come face-to-face with food quite this beautiful.

I won't play the TV critic by analysing the ingredients and flavour combinations, but you can see it - and you'll have to take it from me, it tasted as good as it looked. The Wellington itself had the fish itself at the centre, minced off-cuts (I think), then seared chard leaves and finally the thinnest pastry I've ever come across. It added to my enjoyment when Emily emerged from the kitchen to ask how I'd enjoyed it. She told us it was a new dish. She had had 20 goes at perfecting it - and this was the first time she'd been satisfied enough to serve it to a customer. Wow! I thought. I assured her it was brilliant. Sadly I wasn't with it enough to get a picture of us with her...!

Our puddings - sorry, desserts - were lemon posset with granola (Jane) and strawberry soufflé with clotted cream custard (me). And of course they too were lovely. So we drove home with a warm glow inside and out. 

To cap our day we spent the evening with old friends and new friends at our local coffee shop, Cornerstone, for the occasional meeting dubbed Face2Face. We shared food (again!) and music or poetry which meant something to each of us. My choice was Liszt's Les Préludes, which I first heard with Jane at an open-air concert at Kenwood House 44 years ago, intensely romantic and spiritual. Jane chose a song which resonates more with our present situation, Laura Story's Blessings, which asks questions about the mystery of unanswered prayer. She doesn't give definite answers, but keeps asking, "What if...?" To end with, Mary read a version of the Hungarian writer, Útmutató a Léleknek's often quoted/plagiarised parable, Do you believe in mother? And Pete prayed.

A rather, a very, good day - we slept gratefully and well.

Diverse Church six months on

One of the many downsides of MND is that it limits one's freedom of movement, not just in the small matter of daily living, but also in the bigger things of choosing how often to go out. It's a major operation, comparatively, to get out to a meeting, for example. I was sorry, last week, to miss two quite different meetings.

One was on Thursday, organised by the Oxford Diocesan Evangelical Fellowship, entitled, "Evangelical witness in this diocese in the light of Pilling, Bishop Alan Wilson, and the appointment of a new Bishop of Oxford." In the light of the accompanying write-up and attached paper, this promised to be a meeting resisting any ground being given to the gay/equal marriage move in the Church of England. I wouldn't have minded saying a bit. I don't know whether I will hear any feed-back from that meeting. The other meeting was on Saturday in London organised by the Two:23 Network, a group who describe themselves: "Two:23 is a network of Christians, connected by LGBT (Lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender) issues, who have discovered that God loves us just as we are. This realisation frees us unashamedly to include and encourage all to discover the love of God for themselves, pursue the call of Christ and live in a way that cherishes others just as God cherishes us." I suspect the two meetings could scarcely have been more different - except that they both included worship. Now that's interesting....

I did listen to the talk given by Sally Hitchiner at the Two:23 meeting, which you can find on their website. She was talking about the group she was instrumental in founding for young Christians struggling with the faith and sexuality, called Diverse Church. It's an impressive and widely encompassing group, which supports and gives hope to youngsters who had none before. I can't give an adequate account of its scope. For that I recommend listening to Sally's talk (on http://two23.net/). Here are two contrasting quotes from it. "Being gay and a Christian is rather like finding you have incurable cancer." "Finding Diverse Church and discovering that you can be gay and a Christian is like finding Narnia."

Two things I picked up are that it's a pastoral group, rather than a political one. In other words, it exists to care rather than campaign. The other is that it's undogmatic, except for insisting that God loves each of us as we are and as we were created. And so the group includes gay young people who live together or want to find a life-partner, those who have decided to stay celibate and one married to someone of the other sex. They all accept and affirm each other. Something they have in common is that they have all suffered acutely, usually from hearing the message that God considers them, or their feelings, an "abomination". Not surprisingly many have felt or been excluded from their churches - and it seemed from God Himself. You can see a couple of their stories in this film: Christian, it gets better.

One of the most moving initiatives Diverse Church has started is handing over its Twitter feed to one member each Friday who uses the day to tell their story. I regularly follow it. It is a brave thing to undertake, as although it is done using only initials, the potential is there for hostile reactions. For many, I understand, it's the first time they have "come out" telling their story, 140 words at a time. Somehow the gradual way the stories unfold echo the tortuous journey many of the members have traveled, and emphasise the joy they experience when they discover acceptance for who they are. In my view, Diverse Church (which is not a church in the conventional sense, but encourages the Church to be as diverse as was intended) is a remarkable group of young Christians. I've learned from them. I think the Church needs to listen to them.

Saturday was World Aids Day, and Diverse Church's Twitter feed led its followers in a moving prayer, sentence by sentence, with which I finish. I felt as if the person tweeting was praying from his experience and his heart.

Lord,

I'm glad I can talk to you.

You’re always there -

even when my head is somewhere else.

Sometimes I feel overwhelmed,

ashamed, afraid to face the future...

It’s hard living with a stigma.

It’s not what people say.

It’s what they don't say.

It’s the knowing smiles,

and the sheepish looks.

They all add up to a feeling of accusation.

Lord,

I’m glad I can talk to you

Nothing surprises you.

You’ve been where I’ve been

You’ve felt the discrimination

Experienced the betrayal

the hurt

the name calling

the whispering in corners

the religious prejudice.

Lord,

You make me feel whole again

You include me in

You make me feel understood.

Your extravagant generosity

leaves me speechless.

Words fail me as I try to say

Thank you.

You draw me

You give me a place in the picture

You tell me

I belong even when I can't believe.

Lord, you’re unbelievable!!

Heavenly Father, tonight we pray for those whose lives have been overshadowed with the fear of HIV. The prejudice they fear they'll face...

Tonight we pray for the people who are living with HIV/AIDS. Here. Abroad. Anywhere. We pray for protection over them. Love them.

Place your tender hand over them and let them know your presence. Let them know that you're carrying them through the darkest days

and walking with them even in the days they're feeling better. Heavenly Father, help to eliminate the stigma attached...

Help us to stress the importance of being tested, the importance of talking about it, and the importance of living without fear of being discriminated.

Heavenly Father, give us the courage to speak out to those who think the illness isn't 'their problem'. Let them know it is their problem...

It's their problem, because we're all brothers and sisters in Christ. We are all created in one image, we all eat of the same bread...

we all pray to the same God. The same God who created us all in His image.

Tonight, and in the days and nights to come, just give those whose lives have been affected the love and courage they need...

Give them someone to talk to, someone who will listen and someone who will just make a cup of tea when things get too tough...

Show them your love that way. Use us to do your will.

In your name, we ask this and pray. Amen!

Words crack

Here’s a poem called “The Prayer”, by Carol Ann Duffy –

Some days, although we cannot pray, a prayer

Utters itself. So, a woman will lift

Her head from the sieve of her hands and stare

At the minims sung by a tree, a sudden gift.                 

     Some nights, although we are faithless, the truth

     Enters our hearts, that small familiar pain ;

     Then a man will stand stock-still, hearing his youth

     In the distant Latin chanting of a train.

          Pray for us now. Grade 1 piano scales

          Console the lodger looking out across

          A Midlands town. Then dusk, and someone calls

          A child’s name as though they named their loss.

                 Darkness outside. Inside, the radio’s prayer –

                 Rockall. Malin. Dogger. Finisterre.

I'm grateful to my friend, Martin Cavender, for pointing this out to me. As you may know, sometimes what Carol Ann Duffy calls the radio's prayer is my companion in the hours of darkness. 


I love that truth: "Some days, although we cannot pray, a prayer utters itself." 
So thank you, Poet Laureate. (I hope you don't mind my quoting you.)

Multi-faceted love

What a good weekend!  Mellow, I'd call it.  First thing Saturday our friends Tony and Jimmy who fitted our new kitchen last year came round to advise us about our misted up double-glazed window panes and some other ideas I've had about tidying up the house.  It's nice to have people you trust.  Then the family from Manchester arrived and settled in, followed by Bryan from Bristol; by Sunday lunch all the family had arrived.  Yes!!  I got them practising hauling me to my feet so that Jane doesn't always have to do it. We always get a Saturday paper when they're here.  This week it was The Times, and unusually it had an excellent article by Simon Barnes, their football correspondent who does Nature Notes as well, about his son Eddie aged 5 who has Down's Syndrome.  It's called something like, 'My Life with a tiger cub'.  I've quoted from it below, and put the link up on the list.

All good things have to come to an end of course, and now they've all gone back to their week's work.  It was a sort of early Mothering Sunday, because sadly next Sunday clashes with the start of the F1 Grand Prix season - and we have our priorities, you know - only joking!  

We stayed in to watch 'Songs of Praise', which was about prayer.  Although the music had reverted a bit to the all-in-black dull concert style, the interviews were above averagely good.  I'd been sounded out about the programme, but I have to say three of the interviews - with Rowan Williams, Desmond Tutu and Jane Grayshon - were all outstanding.  I don't always feel that our Aled is really engaged with the subject but this time was an exception.  Archbishop Tutu talked about prayer in terms of a relationship of love.  'It sounds almost like marriage,' said Aled, 'for better for worse, in sickness and in health.'  To which Tutu gave one of his chuckles in agreement.   Jane Grayshon has had acute chronic pain (which is treated in a hospice) for 35 years, and she made no bones about how difficult it was.  'Is it hell on earth?'  'Yes.'  I can't imagine living continuously with acute pain.  It must be the worst thing.  A good programme.

Later that evening I read Simon Barnes' article.  It is full of both parents' love for their son.  He asked a question our society needs reminding of, especially these days when some are being told they are useless 'burdens' on society:

'What is Eddie for? A question worth asking, I think. The Nazis sent people with Down’s to the ovens, because they polluted the purity of the race. And before we shudder at such barbarity, we should remember that most women pregnant with a baby with Down’s syndrome choose to abort. It’s clear that many people believe that a child with Down’s has no point: that such a being is extraneous to human needs, a mere burden on society and, in particular, on the parents. Best get rid of them.

'The reality of Eddie’s life contradicts all that. At school, he is held very dear. The headmistress has said that her school is a better place for his presence: because Eddie is there, the school’s small society has become more caring, more gentle, more at ease with itself. At the end of the last school year, Eddie won the Peace Prize, voted for annually by the entire class. The prize is given to the kindest, most generous and most helpful child....'

He talks about people's reaction to Eddie in public places - and it is universally positive. But he asks:

'Is that enough, though? Shouldn’t an individual contribute something to society? Eddie’s function is to be loved, and to love in return. Perhaps that is everybody’s ultimate function. Eddie enriches the lives of his family and enriches the lives of those he comes into contact with outside. That seems to me to be a life right on the cutting edge of usefulness.'