Pentecost 15 10th September
In Camus’ novel the Plague the
people of the city are too busy and engaged to notice any who were ill until
the evidence of the plague could not be ignored.
I feel that in our society we
have once again become too busy to remember the COVID-19 Pandemic and anything
it might have taught us. As I have wrestled with our reading from Exodus I have
noticed the feelings of anger and grief which have powerfully coursed through
me.
The people of God on the verge of
escaping slavery eat a hurried meal in the shadow of the plague that is about
to engulf the nation. The Pharoah was supposedly a wise ruler beloved by the
Gods and a god in human form. His role
was to protect the ancient land. Because of his folly the Pharaoh has brought
about ecological devastation in Kemet. Kemet, the name of the land is taken
from the rich black alluvial soil of the Nile which snakes through the land
irrigating crops. The river Nile is life just as the much neglected and
mismanaged Murray Darling basin which from above is a giant serpent nurtures
our land. The Pharoah in his arrogance has neglected the cunning of the serpent
and disaster is about to strike. The age long harmony had been disrupted by his
intransigence and now every family in Egypt will be touched by death.
In the sharing of the Passover
eaten hurriedly on the run with bitter herbs the people are to remember and
recall with gratitude the ancient Covenant and their liberation and eventual
return to the land. The blood smeared on the doorway an indicator of life amid
the putrid stench of death.
COVID-19 brought out the best and
the worst in humanity. It showed just
how selfish some people could be and how amazing and altruistic others could
be. Working as a chaplain at the Royal Adelaide Hospital especially in
Intensive Care alongside other health professionals during the pandemic was for
me a life changing experience. It was
like being at war with a hidden and deadly enemy. New rituals brought us
together, the careful donning and doffing of PPE, hand hygiene, bagging our
clothes at the doorway at home and jumping in the shower with the fear of
spreading a deadly disease to our families. Our faces were lined by the tightly
fitted masks and goggles. The hospital became like a monastery with limited
admission and it was very noticeable how the public stepped away from anyone in
scrubs.
Yet in March 2020 as google
searches for prayer soared and when the Ruby Princess passengers were released,
I noticed how significant food came for us at work. We would sit outside in the
sunshine and people deprived of touch, would stroke the grass as we ate our
lunches in the open air. The public sent in chocolates and cakes and cards.
Food, touch togetherness, the sunshine it all mattered. Little rituals of a
common humanity and care.
So let us return to Exodus, the
on the run meal under the shadow of the plague, the blood on the door frame and
the command to remember. It is the Passover, and with the other feasts and
fasts of Judaism this has sustained the people of the Covenant over the
centuries as the stories have been told and guests welcomed to the on the run
meal. Over the centuries despite everything Judaism has endured in part because
of the fasts and feasts celebrated in the home as well as the daily prayers and
other rich and sustaining rituals. Remember and carry on the story of faith the
constant refrain.
The energy of anger has been with
me as I have remembered the hospital and reflected on the pandemic. Our society has set aside no day to remember
those who died around the world and here in Australia from COVID-19. My mother
died in the UK in 2021 and there were only a few at her funeral held many weeks
later because the funeral directors were so busy. We watched via U tube. At
end-of-life prayers at the Royal Adelaide staff would hold up smartphones and
tablets because none could attend the prayer I offered.
We have kept no day and have no
memorials to the many women who nursed selflessly the returned soldiers from
the First World War and then died of the Spanish Flu brought on the plague
ships, ‘we will not remember them.’
The dead from COVID-19 among them health workers and other front-line staff; ‘We will not remember them’. No ribbon,
no poppy, no day of remembrance for those who mourn who died in our poorly
managed and funded nursing homes. No day of thanks for scientists and
researchers who developed the life-giving vaccine and anti virals. No day of remembrance to think about what we
learned in that time. It seems that like the people in Camus’ novel we have
become too busy to notice. Time to move on, time to forget. Not everyone has
forgotten. Some writers and commentators have commented on the lack of
meaningful rituals in our individual lives to mourn our losses and celebrate
life.
Some church communities have also
fared poorly as people have not returned to worship following COVID19. During
the past few years I also have also not been a regular attender at worship.
Working with so many infectious patients made me fearful of infecting others.
Part of being angry I suspect is readjusting to life in the everyday world
where we have been keen to move on. None the less throughout the pandemic I
would pray alone and with others in the hospital chapel and celebrate our own
Passover, the Eucharist with patients. For me meditation alone and with others
of all faiths and backgrounds and walking in nature sustained me.
One of our challenges as a church community is finding ways
to restore in ways that are appropriate daily habits of spiritual practices
that sustain us at home and at work.
Praying and sharing scripture with close friends is a form of church for
me. Keeping Friday and finding ways to fast keeps me close to the cross. Daily
prayer from our Anglican Prayer book, saying grace before meals, making the
sign of the cross, bowing to
an icon, listening to music an
act of spiritual communion. These are all ways in which the flame of faith is
kept alive. They serve as the smear of lamb’s blood on the doorpost to keep
faith alive. We may not for all kinds of reasons be able to attend a service in
a church building but we can still alone and with others, even via technology
be church.
Noticing these simple spiritual
practices and remembering them has released me from the energy of anger as I
have agonised and re-written this sermon and now, I notice simple gratefulness
arising. God sees, God notices, everything and everyone is loved, the Holy One
is not content with the 99%. The One who calls is full of compassion and mercy
and holds and heals all. Sooner or later the plague in one form or another will
find me and it will find us all. An accident, a cancer, old age will take us
all as death is common to all things in this dimension of existence.
Yet I do have some choice. Let me
not conspire with Pharoh in his greed and resentment sleep walking towards
ecological destruction and the breakdown of society. I can play my part in
being as Paul writes, a person of reconciliation who makes a generous ‘yes’
with this one wild and precious life. I can remember to live with integrity and
truth. I too can affirm the dignity and worth of all and learn to listen with
humility and grace even when the truth is painful
You and I can stand with our spiritual ancestors, in their
‘on the run’ simple meal and in our own ‘on the run’
Eucharist meal. You and I can remember and affirm the
grace and glory that is ours in the gift of our liberator Christ. Like the
people of old we can gaze and find healing as we behold the serpent of death
and life lifted on the cross in the wilderness and winter of our
discontent.
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