Going Viral

We live in unprecedented times. Even if one is to look at past pandemics, like the Bubonic Plague, or past events that transformed national life, like World War II, the culture we live in is so far-removed from those times as to make any comparison shallow and unhelpful. The world has never faced anything like this before and to have the very foundations of normality pulled out from under us and life reset to its basic elements is an unsettling thing for many of us. Much discussion has taken place already concerning the nature of the crisis we face and the changes it must wreak upon our lives - after all, many of us don’t have much else to do now we’re locked up in our homes for the majority of the day. I’ve seen discussions about how this will impact our view of economics in the future; how it might alter relationships and our appreciation of friends and family; how it helps us to value the most essential services we are offered in life, like medical care or the provision of groceries. People have made much of our suddenly reduced impact on the environment and, yes, there has been an ongoing conversation about what this means for the Church, which is my concern. With church services across our and many other nations suspended indefinitely and the Archbishop of Canterbury calling on Christians to be Church in a radically different way, I have found myself reflecting on what this might mean. How can the Church be radically different when it cannot meet in any traditional way? What can replace the usual Sunday services or weekly Bible studies? Are there ways to be Church online that we haven’t really explored yet? I am convinced that there are, that the way forward for the Church at this time, and as something that must be ongoing for many of us even when this crisis is over, is to be found in expressing our faith in new creative and practical ways - online for now, but unleashed onto the world as well just as soon as we can leave our homes. I don’t know how this will look in practice, however, and I’m not convinced anyone else really does either. I think, first and foremost, we all need to look at the gifts God has given us and ask ourselves (and God) how we might best use those gifts in our current situation. Only once Christians start to do this en masse will this radical “new” vision for the Church become clear. I put ‘new’ in quotation marks there for a reason. I’ve been hearing talk of new opportunities for the Church, when, actually, what I see are the old paths rarely taken becoming the only options once the well-trodden ways have been closed off to us. I was directed by my ADO to Psalm 137, ‘By the rivers of Babylon…’, and found much there to consider in this current situation. There are obvious comparisons to be made between the Jewish community in exile in Babylon and the Church in exile from its buildings during this pandemic. Certainly, whilst Christians everywhere are greeting this new way of living in very different ways, some of us must be taking this enforced absence from Sunday rituals very badly. Are we sitting down and weeping by the living-room sofa as we remember Holy Communion? It might sound silly put that way, but for some this level of unsettling change will be very upsetting and whatever action the Church takes to continue being God’s people in this strange exile, we must consider how to care for and encourage those who are finding it difficult. Similarly, whether we realise it or not, many of us will be clinging on to old ways of doing things, just as the writer of Psalm 137 seems to be in the second stanza. Certainly, the immediate response to the closing of churches has been to recreate what we know of church online through live-streaming. There’s nothing wrong with that at all and, indeed, it will prove very helpful for many of us, but I am convinced that we will soon discover that that alone does not constitute Church and we may find ourselves longing for something more and grieving what we have lost. The Psalmist, too, laments over the loss of Jerusalem and fears forgetting it as we might fear whether it will ever be the same again after the pandemic has passed. He asks ‘How can we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?’ and we too must ask ourselves this question. How can we sing the Lord’s song with social-distancing, in self-isolation, in lockdown? The exiled Jews found ways to answer that question. The exile was a period of incredible spiritual growth for the Jewish people, with much scriptural material written and revised during this time as well as many talmudic writings as commentary. Whilst we mustn’t pressure ourselves into doing more than we can in a time which will be trying in lots of unexpected ways - strained relationships, finding time and energy to educate our children, worrying about work and finances, etc. - there is no reason that we too can’t find some time to grow in our spirituality, gaining new insights into scripture, into the way God is working around and through us, learning to love God more and our fellow humans too along the way. Perhaps we will find Psalms like 137 helpful to consider during a time of readjustment. We might at first relate with its picture of fear and sorrow, but by asking its questions, by hurling them at God if necessary, hopefully we can learn to move on. Here I find Romans 12 verses one and two helpful. “I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect.” In the light of our current circumstances, I read this rather differently than I have done in the past. I am very conscious that it is by God’s mercies - the way that he condescends (comes down with us) to be with us in our daily lives - that we might be able to become living sacrifices and live out our faith - our being Church without the usual Sunday worship rituals. Indeed, this verse talks about spiritual worship, which doesn’t require bricks and mortar, or a worship band, or even a preacher, at all. I am reminded also of Hosea 6:6, “For I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.”, or Psalm 51: 16-17, “For you have no delight in sacrifice; if I were to give a burnt offering, you would not be pleased. The sacrifice acceptable to God is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.” Both speak of relating to and worshipping God outside of the traditional religious practices of the day and so our living sacrifice might also be a living liturgy or a living prayer - turning our lives into the act of worship we are no longer allowed to perform in the way to which we have become accustomed. And that living sacrifice, that liturgy of our lives, is also to be something novel, something transformed and renewed. We need not conform to the patterns of our religious traditions any more than to those of this world. There is much they can teach us of course and much we can borrow and use - I’ve been learning much from exploring Celtic Christianity, for example - but they do not need to constrict us. We have the opportunity now, as we have always had, to worship God and to serve His kingdom in new ways, with new creativity and new love guided by the Spirit. As I see it, the Church is always on the edges of Heaven and Earth, always at the point of standing up, jumping in, taking action. Right now that image is more clear to me than ever before, because all the old patterns we might have fallen back upon have been taken away from us, thus now, now we can perhaps show the world something new and in so doing reveal the most ancient of truths. And so, hopefully, I write these reflections and share them publicly in ways I might not a few weeks ago, because this situation emboldens me. This is but one part of the Church we might become, but I do what I can see to do and hope to have my eyes opened further the deeper into this time of darkness we go.