Prayers for Easter Sunday

These prayers were originally presented at our Easter Sunday service, reprinted here for you to view and review.

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From Nicola Colhoun

The earth shook when you were raised - perhaps the rocks got to say their piece after all. An angel sat outside your tomb - was it the same angel that had called the shepherds to Bethlehem? " Do not be afraid. Do not be afraid. Come and see." But you're not in the manger anymore, and You're not in the grave either.

Something huge has happened. Nothing makes sense, but everything is as it should be. The universe is made right. It all looks the same, but it is made new, past anything we can see. or know. It is far too much for us. We can't begin to grasp this. But then, there You are on the road. You are alive! And you have feet that can be grasped. And you have scars and you eat breakfast. You tease the fishermen and you restore Peter. And that is how we know that it is made right, that it will be all right, because You are here.

And we, like the women of that first morning, are afraid yet filled with joy. We don't know what it means, but we know that we have seen You. Like the disciples we doubt sometimes, but You promise to be with us anyway. Until the very end of the age. Thank you. Thank you, and amen. And hallelujah too.

From Alan Williams

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

“Why do you search for the living among the dead?” You are the Way, the Truth, and the Life, and you are alive! There is no idea or construct of dead theology that I need put my faith in, that I set my hope towards. I need no bond from God, notarized and stamped, assuring me I have of some abstract salvation or that I can get in the doors of heaven while holding it. No! Lord Jesus, you are Salvation. You are healing. You are the resurrection and the Life! Reconciliation and recreation are in you. Oh, Bread of God. Oh, Living Bread come down from Heaven, you have revealed to us a God who saves. You are the God who saves. You are the very presence whose light is the life of men, quickening, strengthening, sustaining us by your very self. You are both the bridegroom and the feast! You have wholly given yourself to your creation! Let me sit in the garden and hear you say my name, bringing me back to life. And let me sit on the beach feasting with you, bringing humanity back to oneness with the Word that spoke it into being. Let the celebration begin and not cease! Bring bread! Pour the wine! Come Lord!

Jesus, I cannot fully understand all that you have done, all that you are. But, my Lord and my God, if I could just know you, and that you would be yourself would be enough for me for all eternity! Grant this I pray.

Amen.

Easter Sunday

This poem was originally presented at our Easter Sunday service. We wanted to make it available here for anyone who may have missed them and for those who may want to revisit it.

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Easter 2020
Malcolm Guite

And where is Jesus, this strange Easter day?
Not lost in our locked churches, anymore
Than he was sealed in that dark sepulchre.
The locks are loosed; the stone is rolled away,
And he is up and risen, long before,
Alive, at large, and making his strong way
Into the world he gave his life to save,
No need to seek him in his empty grave.

He might have been a wafer in the hands
Of priests this day, or music from the lips
Of red-robed choristers, instead he slips
Away from church, shakes off our linen bands
To don his apron with a nurse: he grips
And lifts a stretcher, soothes with gentle hands
The frail flesh of the dying, gives them hope,
Breathes with the breathless, lends them strength to cope.

On Thursday we applauded, for he came
And served us in a thousand names and faces
Mopping our sickroom floors and catching traces
Of that virus which was death to him:
Good Friday happened in a thousand places
Where Jesus held the helpless, died with them
That they might share his Easter in their need,
Now they are risen with him, risen indeed.

Maundy Thursday (Commandment Thursday)

The words which begin this ancient service tell us why we gather.

This is the night that Christ the Son of Man gathered with his disciples in the upper room.

It was early for a Passover meal, but eating together was common enough for them. No one went in expecting anything unusual, except for the usual unusual which took place whenever Jesus was around… a healing, a woman breaking in to pour oil on Jesus, a confrontation with the Pharisees…but that was to be expected.

They did not know this was going to be their last meal together.  They did not know Jesus was going to reinterpret the Passover and give it new meaning.

They did not know one of them would betray Jesus that night.  They did not know Jesus was going to pray in a way they had never heard before, with anguish and sorrow.

They did not know in just a few hours they would all abandon him and scatter in the darkness.

They did not know any of it, how could they have?  They went to the meal expecting prayer, singing, teaching and a meal. They went expecting church. What happened changed their lives and changed the world.

On this night Jesus gathered with his disciples in the upper room for a meal.

This is the night that Christ our Lord and Master took a towel and washed the disciples’ feet, calling us to love one another as he has loved us.

The one, who to this point they had called Rabbi, Lord, teacher and Master and bowed before in worshiped, this night took on the role of a humble servant. The one who condescended from glory with the Father to created flesh, now condescends again from Master to slave.

Is it any wonder Peter found it awkward?

Jesus was showing them and us, that if we want to be his follower, his student, if we want to be like him, then our posture must be that of a servant to all.  We are to serve the world he came to save.  That is our call, our vocation.

We serve by washing, feet, hands, faces, all that is soiled and needs soothing. 
We serve by healing wounds, physical, relational, cultural, emotional and spiritual. 
We serve by always, not just sometimes or often, but always, putting the needs of others before ourselves.  
We serve by setting things right, that is, by being righteous. 
We serve by listening to those who are in pain, to those who when they speak no one else listens, to those who have no voice.
We serve by saying, ‘I’m sorry’ and by saying, ‘I forgive you’ even before the other says they are sorry.
We serve by being the presence of Christ wherever we are and by seeing Christ in others wherever we go.
We serve keeping and protecting the whole of creation and changing our lives to make it so.

In other words we serve by loving.  Which is why on this night after he served them, he loved them to the end and he gave to us a new commandment.  Not a program for evangelism, or a system of catechism or a structure of leadership or an institutional hierarchy or a suggestion for church growth…but a command…this we must do if we want to be his disciple:

“Love one another has I have loved you”.

On this night we are told the highest calling in our faith is to love. 

This is the night that Christ our God gave us this holy feast, that we who eat this bread and drink this cup may here proclaim his perfect sacrifice.

Since they were little children they had celebrated Passover every year.  They knew the story, the bitterness of slavery, the plagues, the tears of salt, bitter herbs, sweet Chorreset and the unleavened bread, the blood of the lamb and the wine.  They knew the questions and answers, the psalms and the prayers by heart.  It was what they knew.

Until Jesus took the bread, the stolen bread, stripped and pierced and after saying the blessing, “Blessed are you O Lord our God, King of the universe, who brings forth bread from the earth”, he broke it and gave it to each of them saying, “Take, eat, this is my body which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me”.

This was not part of the story, this was not in the liturgy at all.  What did he mean by this?

Then after the meal was finished, he took the cup of wine, the cup of salvation, for now the saving lamb had been eaten, and he said the blessing, “Blessed are you, o Lord our God, King of the universe, who created the fruit of the vine”. Then he gave it them each saying, “Drink this, all of you; for this is my Blood of the New Covenant, Which is shed for you, and for the many, for the forgiveness of sins: whenever you drink it, do this in remembrance of me.”

This was not part of the story either, the blood of salvation was the blood of the lamb, that was THE covenant. What is this ‘new’ covenant in his blood?  What did he mean by saying this on this night?

This is the night that Christ the Lamb of God gave himself into the hands of those who would slay him.

This night after the strange Passover and after Judas left so suddenly, Jesus took them to a familiar place just outside the city wall, across the Kidron valley to the Mount of Olives.  This was the same place King David had learnt that one of his closest friends had betrayed him. And now on this night the Son of David is betrayed by a close friend.

After praying for a time, a deep and painful prayer and knowing that his closest friends wound soon abandon him in fear, and His Father would ask of Him one more thing, He saw a serpentine parade of slithering through the darkness… Behold my betrayer is at hand.

On this night Yeshua, the one who saves, Emmanuel God with us, the Son of God and Son of Man, the Lamb of God went quietly ass a Lamb to be sacrificed.

Amen.

A Prayer for Palm Sunday Pt.2

Originally presented at our Palm Sunday service, written by Alan Williams

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“Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!”

Jesus, I know you’ve heard these words before. They must in some way please you. You said if the crowds didn’t say them then the rocks would cry out; did you mean they would cry out these very words? I know what was coming. I know now where you were heading after the palm-covered road ran out; what your face was set towards.

But I still don’t know what to pray. What to say. Forgive me I pray. I long to join the chorus of those rocks. Rocks that you spoke into to being, maybe rocks that you chose to not speak into bread just to satisfy your own comfort—what I may foolishly call your needs.

May I understand more of you. May I see who the “King who comes in the name of the Lord” is. Why does my mind so immediately see visions of such success and grandeur when it hears the word “King?” You have spoken to me so many times about what your kingdom is like. Please let my mind be fixed on a vision like that. But let me see you. In these visions guide my spirit to notice you at work, you forgiving, redeeming, providing.

I see that I am indeed called to work along side, but not from my own strength, not from my own intellect and ideas of what it means to bring forth this “peace in heaven and glory in the highest!” I can see it is you alone that accomplishes, that finishes and perfects. It is you alone on that donkey, walking through this jubilant confusion, this makeshift celebration of he who is truly our salvation, however obscured by our expectations and ideologies his presence among us may be—hosanna, nonetheless! Lord save us, for you are the one that saves! Lord forgive us even as we praise you.

Oh, great Lion of Judah, worthy are you! In the end of all things it is you who stands. Please, let me look up also, and see you, to recognize you: a lamb, who looked as though he were slain. Oh lord, teach me to recognize you and your ways. Lamb of God, remove from my eyes my false ideas of Kingship, power, and glory so that I may pray again, “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!” “To you be blessing and honour and glory and might forever and ever!”

Amen.

Forgive Them

“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do”.

I always heard this as a prayer in the moment…forgive them for killing me, betraying us, for they do not understand what they are doing.

And it is for this moment, but the prayer of absolution is much more than just this moment in time when humanity kills its creator.

Jesus is praying, ‘Forgive them all, for all of it.’
Forgive the criminals beside me.
Forgive the crowds who deride me.
Forgive the priests who wag their head and say, ‘let him save himself’
Forgive the soldiers who divide my garments like that is my whole worth
Forgive the ones who mock and beat me
Forgive the people who cried out ‘Crucify him’
Forgive Pilate and Herod who sentenced me to death
Forgive Peter who denied knowing me
Forgive dear Judas who betrayed me
Forgive my friends who fled and left me alone.
It is all this and more
Forgive the Pharisees and Sadducees who turn the law and religion into bonds of slavery
Forgive the Romans who oppress the people and love power
Forgive the Greeks who worship wisdom and rhetoric above all else
Forgive them all for all of it.
Forgive the kings for ruling with injustice
Forgive the priests who devoured the sheep and led the people astray
Forgive the false prophets who led others to idolatry
Forgive the nation who wanted a king like Saul and not a king like you
Forgive the people who gave into fear and did not enter the Promised Land
Forgive Moses for his failures
Forgive Jacob for his deceptiveness
Forgive Abraham who took matters into his own hand rather than placing them in yours
Forgive Noah for his feebleness
Forgive Cain for taking his brother’s life out of jealousy
Forgive Adam and Eve for their mistrust and lack of faith in you.
Forgive those who remember my death and those who have gone before them as the church, forgive them all for all their sins.

…and all three hours his silence cried for mercy on the souls of men…

A prayer of universal absolution…

“Father forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.
They do not know any better.  They do not know us.
They do not know our love for them.  They simply do not know.”

From the beginning of creation God has been demonstrating his deep love for us but we have repeatedly failed either to grasp or accept it.  Finally, God sent his only beloved son into the world, the incarnate one, God with us.  Still we did not understand. And so here we are today, at this moment, standing at the foot of the cross.

All the other words Jesus spoke this day from the cross, only make sense in light of this one, ‘Forgive them for they do not know what they do’.

Each word, a word of divine and steadfast love.

Seven times he spake, seven words of love
And all three hours his silence cried
For mercy on the souls of men
Jesus, our Lord is crucified.

To this final act of incomparable love, we are now invited to bear witness… greater love has no one than this, that he lay down is life for his friends… ‘It is finished and now Father into your hands I commit my spirit’ and with that he breathed his love. 

Good Friday is nothing more and nothing less than the single greatest act of love the world will ever know.

O love of God, O sin of Man!
In his dread act your strength is tied,
and victory remains with Love:
Jesus, our LORD is crucified. 
Amen

A Prayer for Palm Sunday

Written by Nicola Colhoun. Presented originally at our Palm Sunday service but just too good to not post here for those who may have missed it.

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Dear Jesus, 

Matthew says that before you entered Jerusalem, you gave sight to two blind men and they followed you.  They followed you right to this bizarre impromptu parade. It must have been a strange and beautiful thing to witness -  all those people gathered along the road to see you and cheer for you, singing bits of a Psalm and throwing branches and cloaks on the ground.  This crowd had seen and heard of you before - healings, miracles, words that seemed breathed by the Divine. They wanted to claim you as theirs - their King, the One who came to them from God.  We want to do the same. And like them, we don’t quite get it. 

Their songs and the road of branches they made for you, that you wouldn’t touch the ground that you yourself had made, they were exuberant and a little awkward and misguided.  But you redeemed them. You rode on a donkey, and wept over the city and the blindness of those who wanted to follow you. And when the religious leaders told you to quiet the crowd, you told them that the rocks would cry out.  Creation was bursting with You - who you are and what you were about to do. But you let people try to find the words, even the wrong ones.

When you were born, the angels announced peace on earth.  When you came to die the people thought they could announce peace in heaven.  

Forgive us when we miss what you are doing, when we put our own words in front of yours.  Redeem our efforts as you did then. And help us, always, to rejoice in your presence as those people did on the road so many years ago.   And, even though your crown doesn’t look anything like we think it should, let us greet you as our King. 

Amen

Montreal

A friend of mine is a reporter for CTV in Montreal. The pandemic has hit hard there, harder than in any other Canadian city. 
I asked Dan if he would write a reflection for the Reflector website. He did.

Bless the people of Montreal. Bless the reporters heading out to follow the story.  Amen - Todd

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It snowed on Monday, March 23, 2020 in Montreal. 
This is not strange, but it is the kind of thing that will get clicks; especially if you get into the sweet spot: 10-20 centimetres. Let it snow, and let them click.
The snow on March 23, 2020, however, it didn’t even warrant a story. No one on the web desk checked if there was even a weather warning, and no one would have read it anyway.
There was something else going on that day. There was something else going on then, and there is something else going on now.
There is, in fact, only one thing going on, and it has taken over every aspect of the news cycle.
It is the COVID-19 pandemic.
Writing for the web desk during the pandemic is a non-stop stream of content. There has never been anything like it.
I am not the veteran newsman that some are; having only been at the post on CTV News Montreal’s desk since August, and working as a journalist since 2011. I did not cover 9/11, the 2008 financial panic, the Oka Crisis, the ice storm or the War on Terror. 
All of those stories were big, but I dare say the entire newsroom wasn’t dedicated to every aspect of them. I suppose going back to the Second World War would be the last time when every story centred on one thing. Locally, I would bet the 1998 ice storm took over everything, but nothing in my lifetime has had such a global focus.
“Non-coronavirus” stories these days are as rare as a February Vancouver snowstorm.
As a gauge for how things have changed, consider Friday, March 6. There was an earthquake in Montreal, a COVID-19 case confirmed, a stabbing, and a Habs legend died. RIP Henri Richard. That was a full day of big news, and one that got us all excited as we watched people engage with the news (all any journalist really wants). To be clear, Henri “The Pocket Rocket” Richard was not the person who was stabbed. 
A week later, the only thing to say about Richard was that fans couldn’t go to his funeral. Two weeks later the news was nothing but coronavirus and it has stayed that way since. Stabbings, ice rain and people getting hit by buses briefly make the top 10 stories of the day, but never stay for long.
Watching the news cycle and reporting on the pandemic is fascinating and exhausting. 
In the past two weeks, I’ve interviewed the guy who runs a homeless shelter, a cop, a lady who runs a convenience store and is upset she can’t buy scratch tickets at the store anymore, a comedian whose dog singing “I Will Survive” went viral, and a nine-year-old who began inserting gloves, masks and the COVID-19 virus into masterworks of art. I spoke with a mom who really wanted to know why the school board didn’t say WHO it was that was positive, and an Indigenous DJ spinning on Twitch because all of his shows were cancelled. I talked to someone annoyed that her final exams are going to be on camera, and the guy who runs the Running Room.
I’ve written about Asian racism, Jewish communities getting hit hard, a party getting broken up, public transit measures, and, of course, the all important fodder for everyone’s attention: the count. How many are infected? How many have died? How many masks do we have left?
All stories are affected by the virus. Infected. 
What do I make of all this? How do I, as a journalist, reflect on this?
It’s a tough question. 
There are some that are frustrated, some that are energized, some that are scared, and some that are defensive, but they all kind of see that a) we’re all in this together; b) we have to do something; c) now is not the time to be a spazz and d) we need to do a better job of washing our hands. 
Some are kind, some are cautious, some are curious and some are mean. Sometimes, all of the above are stupid.

CRUELTY

Yes, there are the people panicking and, in a paradox of reason, storm to the most crowded place imaginable – a supermarket – to stockpile in case they need to isolate. I wonder how many caught the virus that scared them so much in the first place at the supermarket, and brought it home and sat upon their mountain of toilet paper and infected everyone else. How much do these people think they’re going to poop by the way?
There are, and this is no surprise, a lot of people ready to snitch. Sometimes, this is not a bad thing. If there are a group of idiots partying because they don’t think it affects them, call the cops. If there is a family in their house making some noise, just let it go. 
In Montreal, the Jewish communities were hit hard, and started falling under uneven levels of scrutiny. Reading comments under stories in these times is particularly hard.
People’s racism has, predictably, shone through against Asian people and communities as well. 
This is something I’ve noticed over the past decade or more and it did not come as a surprise. North Americans (elsewhere as well, but I live here) seem to have a pretty easy acceptance of racism towards Asians living on the continent. Consider Yuli Gurriel’s despicable racist taunts at Japanese pitcher Yu Darvish and the minimal punishment meted out as an example of how little people care and then amplify that to 11 when a global pandemic that originated in China is sprung. 
Look south, sure, but look at your own community and how people react to an Asian person going to get a loaf of bread. Disgusting. It broke my heart listening to Korean, Chinese and others living in Montreal that wanted to tell their story about how afraid they were to go outside, but also didn’t want their names used in case some kind of retaliation happened.
The silver lining was that most commenters were as disgusted as I was when the story was posted.

JOY

There, naturally, was the shining examples of people who just want joy back.  
People are putting rainbows in windows, finding ways to give tenants a break on rent, singing songs, offering to help seniors and writing hate mail to journalists. I guess some things remain the same.
The Jacques Cartier Bridge lit up with rainbow lights the other day, and cops and fire-fighters have parked outside of hospitals with their lights blazing and sirens blaring in thanks to health-care professionals. 
The theme is joy. People want joy. Not nice things, but something that gives a deeper feeling. 

INSECURITY

I was writing stories literally five months ago in November about the CAQ government in Quebec considering tabling a bill that would make it against the law for merchants in Montreal to say, “Bonjour – Hi” when customers entered the store. I laughed while writing it then and kind of want to barf thinking that this mattered. The Minister Responsible for the French Language Simon Jolin-Barrette wanted people to say “bonjour” only (He hasn’t been seen since the pandemic began).
The answer to why that was even a story in November is the same as to why people are so scared now: insecurity. 
The questions no one can answer no matter how hard questioners scream are all the same at the core: What is it going to be like in six months? What is it going to be like in a month? What’s it going to be like next week? What’s it going to be like tomorrow? 
When will I be secure again? 
In Quebec, Premier Francois Legault said he will not release any scenario for when the virus will peak, when the numbers will stop going up, and when that graph will hit the sweetest of all Nirvanas: the plateau.
We don’t know, and so we wait. We sit at the mercy of that unforgiving, indifferent and coldly cruel monster: time.

IT WILL MATTER, JUST NOT NOW

There’s a neighbourhood in Montreal called the Plateau. It’s prime hipster real estate with the coolest cafes, boutiques, brew pubs and bike shops. My wife has a store there, which has been ordered closed with the rest of them. Leonard Cohen lived there. Schwartz’s Deli is there, and there’s a chess café called Pi. You can see the cross on top of Mount Royal from there. 
All of this is preamble now. All of this is the before now. All of this seems like nothing now. 
It seems like nothing but it is not.
All things will matter again, just not now. Weather warnings will matter, just not now. Liverpool hoisting the EPL championship will matter, just not now. Ken Bell’s education on Montreal brew pubs will matter, just not now. The Habs questionable moves and Canucks inevitable gut punch will matter, just not now. Quebec’s Bill-21 banning religious garb for public servants will matter, just not now. The cost of gas, the cruelty towards neighbours, the ignorance of science, meaning of Star Trek and the style of Tan France will matter, just not now. 

This will take time, but things will matter again.

Spiritual Practices

Psalm 139:13-15 (NRSV)

For it was you who formed my inward parts;
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
    Wonderful are your works;
that I know very well.
    My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
    intricately woven in the depths of the earth.

Scripture teaches us that there are plenty of things which bind us all together; we are loved in formation, we are made to be in relationships, we all need other people, we are all aware that there is something transcendent beyond ourselves and so on. However, we are also all uniquely made. We like different things, we see beauty in unique ways, we have different root sins, and we relate to others and to God in our own way.

It is through both our similarities and our differences that we are formed spiritually, that we grow in our relationship with, and our understanding of, ourselves and God. When times are “normal” we find the pathways which allow us to grow and relate. Sometimes though we can stick too closely to the well-worn ways, never wanting to try new ones. This can limit the breadth and depth of our formation. In these “covid times” however, even our well-worn ways may not be fully accessible. For example, many people, though not all, find deep value in going to church, learning, worshipping, praying, and being together. If this is a primary pathway for you, and it has for now been washed away or closed off, what are you to do?

Over the next few weeks I will be writing thoughts and suggestions for us to think about ways of both accessing our regular pathways to God but also exploring new ones which we might have ignored in the past because we thought they were not for us, or that we simply did not require them. For now, I invite you to think about and write down your normal pathways. What are your normal ways of relating to God and growing in faith? Then consider how they are or are not being impacted in these current circumstances.

Dear Lord, I know that you know me, everything about me and that you love me. Help me to continue to learn how to see, know and love you. Amen

A Prayer Three Weeks In

From Richard Topping at the Vancouver School of Theology;

Dr. Topping included in a recent email from VST a prayer written by a fellow minister, the Rev. Dr. John Moses;

God of life, God of love unconquered and unconquerable, we long for the day when we shall all be unbound and set free from the uncertainty and the fear and the isolation and the loneliness of this dark time.

But, right now, we need you to be with us; we need to feel your presence; we need to hear your Spirit calling to our spirits; we need to know that the darkness is not dark to you.

In faith, in hope, in longing, we offer our prayers.

We pray for the people who sit alone waiting for a phone call or an email or Facebook message or a wave from the neighbour across the street. May they not wait in vain.

We pray for those who struggle with depression, for whom these strange circumstances must be especially challenging. May they not be consumed by despair.

We pray for family members and friends who are far away, some of them living where the Covid-19 virus is taking a devastating toll. May they stay safe and well and may they know of our love and concern.

We pray for the people who work in health care, for first responders and law enforcement officers, who have to carry on regardless of the risk to themselves. May they not be overwhelmed and may they find courage and strength. 

We pray for the check out clerks and the shelf-stockers and all the other unsung heroes whose work allows life to go on. May they not be overwhelmed and may they find courage and strength.

We pray for the farmers and food producers. May they find the labourers they need as the growing season approaches and may they not become discouraged.

We pray for the leaders of our own and other countries who are bearing heavy burdens and facing enormous challenges.  May they find grace and wisdom. May they rise to meet the demands of this hour.

We pray for the church and for all faith communities as they keep the lights shining in the night. May the dawn come quickly. God of steadfast love and mercy unfailing, hear our prayer. In Jesus’ name. 

Amen.

The God of Small Things

It feels like things are small and constrained. There is only so much physical space in this house, only so much connection one can make via texts or video chats, only so much energy that can be used to make meals, do laundry, teach kids, work, only so far we can stray from home. Things seem to take more effort than I remember too, something like running through water. I think there’s a collective weight that we’re all experiencing. Maybe our baseline amount of energy has lessened because of it. I find myself waking under the pressure of it. This situation seems to seep into everything, like a resin finding its way into cracks and crevices and then solidifying.

In some ways I think parenthood has prepared me for this. I’ve often felt like parenthood is survival and it is a victory to get from breakfast to bedtime. If everyone is alive and mostly unscathed, bonus points. There’s an unrelenting feeling to this crisis, the days blur into each other. The closest thing I have to compare it to is the intensity of a caring for a newborn and the inevitable sleep deprivation that accompanies that cute, crying, demanding, lovely child.

That’s just me though, for others there may be different situations that may have brought them to this point. Maybe an injury, mental health struggle, aging, or job difficulties. Parents don’t get to hold the monopoly on life being difficult.

I think there has often been an expectation in our society of being productive, of accomplishments. That is the bar of success that is held up. And expectations are hard when you’re in survival mode.

Did you go to work and make dinner and read a great story to your kids and have a spotless house?

Did you make a healthy breakfast and commute in an environmentally friendly way and do awesome at your job and have a super great conversation with your partner?

Did you get outside for a walk and phone all your kids and drop off groceries for your neighbour and finish a project around the house?

There are times where accomplishing a task is helpful and good. It can set a rhythm and routine to the day, it can help engage our mind, spirit, and soul but there are times, and there will certainly be times to come, where it will simply be too much. And that’s ok. There are times where it will be popcorn for dinner, and a quiet walk by yourself is a necessity, and a nap may be the best option. Where getting from breakfast to bedtime with everyone’s arms and legs all still attached is the measure of a successful day. Those are all ok.

God is still in those small things. When all you have the strength and ability for is to sit and read a book, God is in that. When you don’t have the social energy to check on the 10 people in your circle with individual phone calls so you send a group text, “Everyone ok?”, God is in that. When all you can do is slump down at the table with PB&J sandwiches, God is in that.

Matthew 11 tells us:

28 Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.

Let us come to God with all the stuff in our lives that just feels like too much and let us seek rest for our bodies and our souls. Survival is ok, doing what we can is ok, God is in those small things.

My Dad’s Birthday

On March 31, 1930 my dad was born on the kitchen table at the family home in Toronto. His older brother was made to wait upstairs until it was all over. Two years later they would be joined by a third brother and ten years after that, the three young boys would lose their father leaving their mother to raise them during the war and then in the boom which followed.

My dad really was born in a golden era, opportunities to survive and thrive existed even for a widow with three boys, with of course the help of extended family and the local church. Dad was gifted with a mind for numbers, would work in insurance for a time, then on to be an accountant before finally finding his vocation, his true calling as a teacher. He loved teaching, he loved watching his young students grasp new concepts, especially those who would struggle to understand and the finally get it. He also enjoyed hearing from them after they graduated to learn what they went on to do with their lives, appreciating the small role he played.

Dad and mom married in 1957. Children were born in 1958, 1959, 1963 and 1970, (yes, I am the outlier). They moved from Ontario to Kenya and then back to Ontario before finally settling in the Vancouver area. Both my parents loved to travel and make new friends along the way.

His life changed drastically in April of 1996 when my mom died. He found her in her bed after he returned from an early morning dentist appointment. In the years that followed Dad continued to travel and make new friends. In all Dad probably visited more than 25 countries. He also got to meet and watch all four of his grandchildren grow up. He had, by his own account, a truly beautiful and blessed life; enjoying, seeing and experiencing more than he could ever have imagined.

My dad came to understand Jesus’ deep, deep love for him rather late in his life. Sure he ‘believed’ in God before that, he had been an altar boy after all. But it was not until his early 50’s that he began to see and be shaped by this already existing reality; that Jesus was always with him, always for him, always in him and always loved him.

I write this on Tuesday March 31, 2020. He turns 90 today. We were supposed to have had a grand party with all my siblings and assorted friends this past weekend, but, obviously, that did not happen. Today, I will bring him a big gift basket of beer, chocolate and treats (he will be very happy). I will tell him I love him and that I am so thankful for all that he has given me throughout my life. Even now with his declining health and mind, he is still giving; giving me the opportunity to care for him, honour him and love him when he is beyond his years of glory. But I will have to say this through a window, and I will not be able to share one of the beers with him nor will I be able to give him a hug.

One thing I can do today as a way of honouring him is to read his three favourite Psalms, probably his favourite part of scripture (aside from 1 John 3 and 4, he was always about God’s love), Psalms 148, 149 and 150, “Praise the LORD!”. In addition to honouring my dad today, they are not bad pieces of scripture for us to read during this time in our world.

“Let everything that has breath Praise the LORD!”

I invite you to read them today too.

Happy Birthday Dad.

We Thought That This Would Last

You’ve seen the news stories by now, they are various in their emphasis, but they run on the same theme. These are the stories of sudden separation due to the restrictions brought about by the response to the current pandemic.

I saw a story last night on CTV news about family members unable to visit their loved ones in care facilities. One man who looked to be in his late 50’s or early 60’s visited his wife in a care facility everyday. She suffers from early onset dementia. The story contained an older video clip of the husband and wife in the hall of the care home. She was in a wheelchair. He was kneeling down beside the chair and she was reaching out with her hand, stroking his face. She was non-verbal, but she seemed to know him by this touch.
This past week, when the husband went to visit, he sat in a chair outside the home and a worker with a mask on brought out an iPad for him. He spoke into it, trying his best, but you could see from the image on the screen that his wife did not grasp at all what was going on or even who he was.

What have you lost in this time?
It helps in a way to name the loss.

There are grandparents who are feeling great sorrow over not being able to visit their grandchildren. It might seem like this is nothing compared to greater suffering, but it is still a loss. It is real, and it can hurt like hell.

Make it a prayer;

Dear God;

I come to you now naming that which I have lost in this time. When I hear the words, “We thought that this would last”, I think about what I can so easily take for granted. I pray for those who are suffering these disconnections at this time. I ask you to guard my heart as I feel the loss in my life as well.

Help me to see what has not been lost. Help me to see what will be recovered.
There is so much for which to be grateful.
And Dear God, please grant your blessing to those who don’t or can’t understand the loss that they face. Grant your peace to those who wrestle with pain because their loved ones may not understand why things have changed so suddenly.
And Dear God, thank you for one another. I love that I am blessed to live this life with family and with friends and with familiar strangers.

Fill us with a hope for the future, even as we acknowledge the loss right now.
Amen.

Plagues in History and in Literature

It’s Sunday March 29, 2020.

As most people see it, we are about to enter week three of this our COVID spring. I read another article today on the history of plagues in England. Here it is. The article points out that quarantine was invented during the bubonic plague of the 14th Century. We may have progressed a great deal in a great many ways, but right now our chief weapon against this pandemic, against this current plague, is a weapon from the 1300’s. We do kid ourselves, how advanced we are, how secure we are, how free we are.

You may remember the existential author Albert Camus. Perhaps you had to read one of his books in high school. His most successful book, thought not one assigned in Canadian English Class was a book called, “The Plague”. It was written in 1947 and was a fictional account of a French town in Algeria hit by a plague.

I just read the book. It’s certainly makes you feel as if someone knew before what we are going through right now.

Here are some quotes from the book, see how contemporary you find them to be;

• Then, as a colleague told me: “It’s impossible, everyone knows the plague has vanished from the West.” Yes, everyone knew that, except the dead.

• Pestilence is in fact very common, but we find it hard to believe in a pestilence when it descends upon us.

• There have been as many plagues in the world as there have been wars, yet plagues and wars always find people equally unprepared.

• Why should they have thought about the plague, which negates the future, negates journeys and debate? They considered themselves free and no one will ever be free as long as there is plague, pestilence and famine.

• From that point on, it could be said that the plague became the affair of us all.

• Thus, the first thing that the plague brought to our fellow-citizens was exile.

• Then we knew that our separation was going to last, and that we ought to try to come to terms with time.

• But, though this was exile, in most cases it was exile at home. So in a sense the public had no point of comparison. It was only in the longer term, by noting the increase in the death rate, that people became aware of the truth. The fifth week produced 321 deaths and the sixth 345. These increases, at least, were convincing – but not enough for the towns-people, for all their anxiety, to abandon entirely the impression that it was merely an incident, annoying of course, but none the less temporary.

• ‘Ah! If only it had been an earthquake! A good shake and that’s it … One counts the dead, one counts the living and the whole thing’s over and done with. But this rotten bastard of a disease! Even those who don’t have it, carry it in their hearts.’

• So, week in, week out, the prisoners of the plague struggled along as best they could. Inside the town someone had the idea of quarantining certain districts which had been especially hard hit and only allowing people whose services were indispensable to leave them.

• ‘There’s always someone more captive than I am,’ was the statement that summed up the only possible hope at that time.

• Those who had jobs did them at the pace of the plague, meticulously and prosaically.

• The truth must be told: the plague had taken away from all of them the power of love or even of friendship, for love demands some future, and for us there was only the here and now.

• Everyone agreed that the amenities of former times would not be restored overnight and that it was easier to destroy than to rebuild.

There is a great deal in the book. It is novel, but it is also a work of philosophy. One of the central concerns in the book is the consideration of a preacher in the town who has religious sounding explanations for what has happened. They are eloquent, but unsatisfactory in the end.

The main character is a doctor who dutifully goes about his business of caring for the sick. This doctor has no apparent religious faith, but he demonstrates what it is that will help get people through the time of the plague. “Decency”, according to the doctor is what is owed at a time such as this.

For me, in my faith, I see in the book a couple of notes at least that speak to the time we are experiencing. Firstly, what does it mean to be free? We delude ourselves into thinking that we are immune from sudden loss or tragedy or from a sudden and total alteration of that which we take for granted.

In Christian faith, freedom has always to do with Christ. “If the Son has set us free then we are free indeed.” Freedom is not necessarily to do what we want. Freedom is not about our comfort or our health or wealth.

Freedom, in Christian faith properly understood, is the freedom to love.

Perhaps, when things around us seem so much more insecure, we can aim to discover the gift of this freedom.

Bless you today, tonight and this week. May God be with you and with those you love. May God be with all of those who are suffering and unsure.

Dear God;

Open my eyes to see that my freedom is in you. Allow me to see that Jesus was the most free because he was (and is) love in its absolute. I want things to change. I would like things to get back to normal. But the freedom that I had in you when things were normal I still have now. Open my eyes to your gift of love.

In Jesus’ name.

Amen

I Suck at Patience

Psalm 70

1 Make haste, O God, to deliver me!
    O Lord, make haste to help me!
2 Let them be put to shame and confusion
    who seek my life!
Let them be turned back and brought to dishonor
    who delight in my hurt!
3 Let them turn back because of their shame
    who say, “Aha, Aha!”

4 May all who seek you
    rejoice and be glad in you!
May those who love your salvation
    say evermore, “God is great!”
5 But I am poor and needy;
    hasten to me, O God!
You are my help and my deliverer;
    O Lord, do not delay!

I have been turning a lot to the Psalms lately. I think I identify with the large emotions, the weeping, the bartering, the feelings of disappointment and abandonment. I’m really liking the short ones in particular; the ones I can fit in the gaps between the kids fighting, or the loads of laundry; the ones short enough to squeeze in before I lose my temper again (for probably the eighth time today).

The Psalms are a great comfort in times like these. They show us a beautiful picture of moving from a feeling that the world is not as it should be, to a trust in God. Most importantly, in my opinion, they show that the trust in God does not mean a diminishing of feeling scared and uncertain. Right now that resonates. I feel very disoriented, and that is coming out. I am realizing that I really suck at patience. I may be better than some but, oh my goodness, these last two weeks (has it really only been two weeks?!) have weighed my patience levels and I am sorely lacking. Is that a universal experience right now? I think everyone is experiencing their patience being tried and tested. Whether it be children, spouse, isolation, uncertainty about health or work and that is hard. I know that’s not eloquent or shockingly illuminating, but it is hard; so damn hard. The Psalms give me hope that God can handle hard stuff, he is more than capable of taking all screaming, temper tantrums, and waiting that we can throw at him.

How long, O Lord?

The quintessential question of the moment; How long? For this test result, the end of this shift, this surgery to be rescheduled, this school year to resume, this persistent anxiety to subside. How long will my savings last? How long will the gloves, and the masks, and the ICU beds last?

I don’t know.

I am left to cry out to God. And that is ok, and appropriate. He can take it. He can take all of my pain, and all of your pain. My worries, impatience, and frustrations and yours too. And somehow, there will be redemption and restoration. I would not be arrogant enough to claim that there will not also be great pain. One does not preclude the other. We are called to be a hopeful people, let us live in that hope. For now I cry out in my impatience, “…hasten to me, O God! You are my help and my deliverer; o Lord, do not delay!”

Storytelling

I’ve been thinking a lot about storytelling recently.

I’ve never been so keenly aware of living through history. You know, we are living things that will be put into textbooks, given as short answers on some poor grade 11’s socials final: What was your family’s go-to activity during the COVID-19 pandemic of 2020?

I wonder if this is something that my grandchildren will ask me questions about when I’m older. I remember doing something similar with my grandfather, a report on World War II when I was in high school. I wonder what I will tell my grandkids.

I think that I will tell them that my house seemed loud, that the sound of two kids squealing in delight while jumping off their fort built of couch cushions carried through our ancient lath and plaster walls particularly well, as did the distinct sound of my daughter’s screams when her brother bit her for absolutely no reason (well he said he was pretending to be a mean cat, so I guess that’s a reason).

I will tell them of the uncertainty that seemed to seep into my pores, cloud my mind, make me afraid to let my kids run around in our yard because I was terrified that they would get hurt and what would I do then?

I will also tell them about how we read stories as a family, that I could see my daughter’s joy and wonder as I started into a new Harry Potter book with her (and that I saw my husband listening at the door as he was discovering the stories for the first time too). I will tell them about the cuddles from my absolutely gigantic toddler, who intensely loved me and aggressively showed this love to me.

I will also tell them about strange peace, odd peace, illogical peace. That in the midst of all the chaos, the pain, the collective feeling of disorientation, there was peace. Not all the time, but it was there. It came when I saw beautiful sunsets through my kitchen window, when I saw the tree in my front yard begin to blossom, when I held my sleeping son and felt his steady heartbeat, when I sat at my dusty piano and played songs that reminded me that, even in the midst of everything, God is present and that he could be trusted.

Psalm 131

1 O Lord, my heart is not lifted up;
    my eyes are not raised too high;
I do not occupy myself with things
    too great and too marvelous for me.
2 But I have calmed and quieted my soul,
    like a weaned child with its mother;
    like a weaned child is my soul within me.

3 O Israel, hope in the Lord
    from this time forth and forevermore.

Feast of the Annunciation

“In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent from God to a city of Galilee named Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man whose name was Joseph. And the virgin’s name was Mary.”

Most of us associate this passage with Christmas, we read it often on the third Sunday of Advent. Reasonable enough, as it fits into the narrative of the nativity. It is a passage of hope coming in a time of darkness to a people walking and living in dark, uncertain and occupied times. The time is come, the long-awaited Messiah, the Christ, is come to set the people free! Cue the shepherds and choir of angels and the donkey and the star, “Hark the herald angels sing, glory to the newborn king”. Beautiful!

“But”, I hear you ask, “why are we reading and talking about this at the end of March, the beginning of spring?”. Because while it is true it is a passage of hope for the dark season of Advent, the season of waiting and anticipating, we have a time problem which only feeds our impatience and our fulfill me now society.

This announcement promising the birth of God was made Mary one day, but like all births there is a long gap of time from the conception of the promise to the birth of such a gift. Nine months in fact. March 25th is marked in the church calendar as the Feast of the Annunciation.

What God promises will always come to pass, we just need to remember it will take time, God time, three mile an hour time. And that time between the promise and its fulfillment? Well that is life being lived in the shadow between what will be and what is not yet.

The Feast of the Annunciation almost always land some time during Lent, (Easter can happen as early and March 22, but it is rare). In the middle of the season of lament and repentance, as we walk the long lonely road to the cross with the loneliest one of all, as the dark clouds gather with each step, we are suddenly reminded of his birth. Sorrow and grief, for just a moment of distraction, become in us joy and hope.

How fitting this contrast is this year. Never in the history of those living now have we lived in such an uncertain and unusual time. A time where there is only one news story across the planet, one event unifying us and at the same time keep us apart. Lent, the season of gradual isolation, at least for Jesus, is this year a season of isolation for all. Sure, we will get to the other side of this, but when and at what costs? For now, Lent and Advent come together and all we can do is wait, hope, pray and trust knowing that God is God and we are not, oh what a sweet revelation.

I invite you to read, pray and meditate on these words:

In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. And he came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. The angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” The angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. For nothing will be impossible with God.” Then Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her.

Amen

How Deserted Lies the City

There is a lament over a city in the Old Testament. It is quite famous.

The book itself is called “Lamentations” and it is a poem crying over the destruction of Jerusalem.

 Here is how the book starts: (NIV)

1 How deserted lies the city,    once so full of people!
How like a widow is she,    who once was great among the nations!
She who was queen among the provinces    has now become a slave.

“How deserted lies the city”. I have read this passage many times before, but now I read it and see something like it in our city. The city has become deserted, once so full of people.

We ought to be careful about making direct parallels between biblical history and our own time, but we can be awakened to some of the larger truths of life that we often fail to see. We can think that our society, our culture, our city is invincible, that it goes on no matter what.

We know now, that it doesn’t. It can be laid waste by an enemy.

In the book of Lamentations, the enemy was another nation and the destruction was military in nature, and violent. The book is a poem constructed near the beginning of the disaster in order to give the people something to cry out. It names the loss in stark and hard terms.
There is talk of people’s faces being dragged to the ground, like into gravel.
There are images of people wandering aimlessly, and of the leaders sitting on the ground with dust on their heads having no idea what to do.

It’s rough; rougher than now.

However, if you look at the book, you will notice something about it.

There are 5 chapters.
Chapters 1,2 and 4 and 5 have 22 verses each.

There are 22 letters in the Hebrew alphabet.

Each of the verses corresponds to one of the letters, (like, A,B,C,D …). So chapters 1,2, 4 and 5 are acrostic like this.

Look at chapter 3.

It has 66 verses. Now a little math is helpful. Three times 22.
(AAA, BBB, CCC …)

All of this construction is so that people could remember it. The lament is perhaps the first matter that is ordered in an entirely disordered circumstance.

It is in the middle of all of this (just about) that suddenly these verses appear;

Chapter 3
21 Yet this I call to mind    
and therefore I have hope:

22 Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,    
for his compassions never fail.
23 They are new every morning;    
great is your faithfulness.
24 I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;    
therefore I will wait for him.”

25 The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him,    
to the one who seeks him;

Many of us have heard these verses before. We may not have heard about the deserted city or the terrible pain and loss, but we have heard these verses. 

It is one thing to quote these verses when times are good and things feel secure. That is not what the time was like when they were written, not at all.
Now, in our deserted city, we can recite the words being a little closer to the time in which they were written.

Dear God,

How deserted lies the city!
I never thought I’d live in a time like this, but here we are.

So this I call to mind and therefore I have hope;
Because of your great love, we are not consumed. Your compassions never fail. They are new every morning. Great is your faithfulness. Even now.

Dwelling

Who are the people who get you through times like this?

It may be family. Some are blessed to be at home with loved ones and for the most part that may be a positive.

We also know that more Canadians live alone now than ever before. Whether you have a crew of people around you or if you are on your own, there are people who get you through.

Do you watch for the daily briefings of politicians? If so, do they help?
Over the last couple of days I saw Col. Chris Hadfield, a Canadian scientist and astronaut. Remember him? He is the one who did a recording of Space Oddity by David Bowie from the International Space Station.

I think that he is supposed to help get us through this.
“They” are finding people who have lived in isolation for extended periods of time to give pointers and tips.

Hadfield told us that we should “have a mission”. He suggested learning a language or learning to play the guitar.

Are you trying to be productive?

It can help. It can also be too much pressure.
Some days you just need to get through.

I’ve seen the reports as well about parents worried about the education of their children. In most cases these stories feature kids who are 5 or 6 or 8 years old, that range.

Is it okay to ask, are we really worried that a couple of months out of class will impede the development of these kids?

Imagine the pressure that a parent feels. It is already enough to simply try to get through the day. Now, you are supposed to take up a personal mission and become the teacher for your kids.

Just get through.

You’ll find out if you are sinking too much into yourself. Perhaps it might serve well to get up and work on something. It also might be good to stop if you can, to not achieve something.

My advice (you don’t need my advice) would be to notice the slower things.

Sit for a few minutes in the quiet of the morning because you don’t have anywhere to go today after all.

If you are a project and mission person, go for it, but don’t put this onto other people if they need something different to get through.

What does it mean to “Dwell in the house of the Lord”? How can I do it now, in this circumstance?

Psalm 84 English Standard Version (ESV)

My Soul Longs for the Courts of the Lord
To the choirmaster: according to The Gittith. A Psalm of the Sons of Korah.

84 How lovely is your dwelling place,    
O Lord of hosts!
2 My soul longs, yes, faints 
for the courts of the Lord;
my heart and flesh sing for joy
to the living God.

3 Even the sparrow finds a home, 
and the swallow a nest for herself, 
where she may lay her young,
at your altars, O Lord of hosts, 
my King and my God.
4 Blessed are those who dwell in your house, 
ever singing your praise! 
Selah

5 Blessed are those whose strength is in you,    
in whose heart are the highways to Zion.
6 As they go through the Valley of Baca    
they make it a place of springs;    
the early rain also covers it with pools.
7 They go from strength to strength;    
each one appears before God in Zion.

8 O Lord God of hosts, hear my prayer;    
give ear, O God of Jacob!  Selah
9 Behold our shield, O God;    
look on the face of your anointed!

10 For a day in your courts is better    
than a thousand elsewhere.
I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God    
than dwell in the tents of wickedness.
11 For the Lord God is a sun and shield;    
the Lord bestows favor and honor.
No good thing does he withhold    
from those who walk uprightly.
12 O Lord of hosts,    
blessed is the one who trusts in you!

 Dear God;

May I know today, what it means to dwell in your house.
How can I do that now?

I am so restless. I don’t like this forced confinement.
Could it be for me a call to be attentive?
Would you show me how I neglect to dwell in your presence?
So much of our lives can be defined by what we do, where we go, what we accomplish.
Could I see again what it means to be defined by being in your presence?

Here.

Bless all of us in this. As everyday, our prayers go out to those helping, to those on the front lines of this battle.

“Blessed are those who dwell in our house, ever singing your praise.”

Amen

Is this Week Two?

Is this week two, only? “They”say that it could be months. Months?
How are you holding up? Have you been able to adjust fairly well?

We had a great little “Zoom” online service last night. It was so good to see people. Thanks so much for those who participated, and for those who did not we’d love to see you next time. Just send us your email address and we’ll send an invitation.

The other day I was shown some writing by Martin Luther. Last year was the commemoration of 500 years since Luther’s 95 theses set off the Protestant Reformation.

Turns out that he too, lived through a pandemic. Here was his advice;

 “Fumigate house, yard and street; shun persons and places wherever your neighbour does not need your presence or has recovered, and act like someone who wants to help put out the burning city. What else is the epidemic but a fire which instead of consuming wood and straw devours life and the body?”

People have been here before. People have lived through things like this. We don’t know the cost yet, but this will end.

I was so grateful last night to see so many people by way of the online service.
Keep up the good work; encouraging, helping, keeping your distance, praying, being good to each other.

Imagine if we didn’t have the things that we have. If we couldn’t speak on the phone or by social media or text. Martin Luther, as far as I know, did not have Zoom.

Bless you all.

Week Two – here we go.

Ancient Days

Evening.

Do you get tired easier now than when there was more of a world?
Much of what we count of as the world is gone from us now.

The evening still comes, though.

Do you get tired easier now than before?
I have found that I am so tired when the night comes.

For centuries, Christians have gathered in small groups (this can be done in solitude or in keeping distance) and prayed the following prayer as the light escapes the day;

 “O gladsome light of the holy glory
of the everliving Father in heaven,

O Jesus Christ, holy and blessed!

Now as we come to the setting of the sun,

and our eyes behold the vesper light,

we sing your praises, O God:

Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

You are worthy at all times to be praised by joyful voices,

O Son of God, Giver of Life,

and to be glorified through all the worlds.”

Things that are ancient seem not quite as ancient right now.
We were walking around this advanced modern world and then seemingly without warning we are experiencing something akin to a 17th Century circumstance, or a 14th Century circumstance. 1918 is closer than it has ever been.

 Were prayers like the one above prayed during the plague of the 17th Century in England?

We come to the end of this day and we are tired and we are more aware than ever of our frailty.
We’ll lie down and rest. We’ll try to get some sleep. Tomorrow when we wake up we will wake up in this house again; and another day will start.

And we are grateful.  Amen.