Reflecting on a year of COVID restrictions in Scotland

Remembering
the wave of disbelief
and the stunned silence
The grief
and lament
The resignation
and helplessness
The shock of furlough
– surplus to requirement
in an institution
focused on survival

Remembering
the mounting fear
as death tolls rose
The longing to be able to do more
than make a difference
by staying home
and the low grade anxiety
that began low in the belly on waking
and lodged in the throat on sleeping

Remembering
the deniers
and the conspiracists
the pontificators
and the optimists
all of whom made the work of  scientists
and out of their depth governments
all the more difficult

Remembering
the hope snatched away
by a second wave
crushing already beleaguered services
affecting a less compliant populous
being rekindled
by the whisper
of vaccine potential
into a hope reborn 

Oh to share the indictment of Maya Angelou
“When we know better, we do better”
Sadly, I wonder…
What have we learned?
And will our learning make any difference?
Will it make a difference
to the marginalised
to those on the edges
to “the least of these”
whom we are called to love and to serve?
Or, as is often the way,
Will those in power
tell the story
through rose tinted glasses
of a nation that fought
and won the fight
papering over the cracks
of dissension and division
of incompetence and pride
ignoring the long shadows that remain
trumpeting resilience
and “building back better”
as the tools with which to move forward?

Remembering …
And sitting with the grief
so that the loss and sacrifice
of so many
and the ongoing trauma and suffering
is not swept aside
as we move forward
but is carefully woven
into the fabric
of our communities
not only as dark threads
but also as bright and vivid streaks
startling reminders
held aloft
carried with us
into the compassionate future
that we craft together.

This reflection by our friend Liz Crumlish is used by permission, and comes from her blog, which you can follow at this link.

Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return …

(Genesis 3:19)

This Ash Wednesday,
When we cannot gather
to have ashes imposed.
When we may not participate
in the familiar liturgy,
hearing the words that remind us
of our mortality
It becomes all the more important
to take time, with God,
reflecting on the nature
of our shared humanity
– our relationship
with one another
and with the divine creator
who has placed within us
wisdom and knowledge
love and compassion
connectedness and reliance
on each other
and on this
weird and wonderful world
in which we live
Perhaps in our forced isolation
and in our departure
from normal routine
in the strangeness of restrictions and lockdowns
closed borders
and forced quarantine
and amidst loss
that continues to mount up
we might finally confront our frailty and consider the question
of our purpose …
What is the nature of the footprint that we will leave as we journey through our life
How will we carry others
And when will we allow others
to carry us?
And how will we bear witness
to the God of the Universe
who walks alongside
bearing us up in infinite love
providing all that we need
as we accompany others
along the road of life

Thank you to Liz Crumlish for sharing this Ash Wednesday thought, which comes from Living through Lent, a booklet of daily reflections for Lent 2021 that you can download at this link.

Today is 2 February: a day when the Scottish football transfer window has just closed with a flurry of last-minute signings; a day when even the hardiest of Christmas revellers pack away the remains of their decorations; a day to reflect on the time when Christ was presented in the Temple as an infant as recorded in Luke 2:22–40.

The “Feast of the Presentation of Christ in the Temple” marks the day that the old man Simeon took the baby in his arms and recognised him as “A light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of thy people Israel”, words used each day as part of Evening Prayer.

On 2 February it became the custom to bring a lighted candle to the altar to represent the Christ-light, and to bless all the ‘lights’ or candles in the church, praying that all who saw the outward and visible light would remember also and be blessed by the inner light of Christ “who lightens everyone who comes into the world.”

With similar prayers for blessing in our hearts we’ve been asked to light candles at 7:00pm each Sunday to pray together with other Christians in Scotland, using the prayer specially written by the Scottish Church Leaders Forum which is linked to our Home page. And this month, in their #PrayerfortheNation initiative, the Archbishops of Canterbury and York are asking us  to pause and pray every day at 6.00pm for those impacted by the pandemic, with the suggestion that we might light a candle as a prompt to pray.

But our prayers don’t need to be complex or theological in tone. This prayer by Ruth Burgess is suitable for even the youngest:

I light a candle.
A sign that
I know
that God loves me.

I light a candle.
A sign that
I want to walk
with Jesus today.

I light a candle.
A sign that
I want the Holy Spirit
to breathe in me.

I light a candle
and I ask that
God’s love
and God’s glory
may shine through me.

So, go and light that candle!

More poetry on Malcolm Guite’s blog, from which part of this post was adapted, and in Prayers for Lighting Candles by Ruth Burgess, from which the prayer was taken.