Brexit is a mess, and thanks to Brexit, our country, our government and likely future are also a mess. And not just any old mess, but a scary, tangled, precarious and unpredictable mess, taking up time and energy which could better be spent tackling rising poverty and inequality. Meanwhile, though interpretations and solutions about the Brexit mess might differ, ironically, in our increasingly divided country, complaining about it all seems to be the one thing around which both Remainers and Leavers are able to unite.
And there is little solace or escape to be found in news from the Church, the USA or indeed anywhere else. It isn't only winter darkness which seems to be inexorably descending on us - though at least winter darkness is guaranteed to be finite, and contains within it the hope of spring. No, solace has to come from elsewhere, often unexpected, or pushing through tiny cracks. In such a depressing time, the fleeting joy of a rainbow, a stranger's brief kindness or the warmth of a generous act can feel all the more precious, and so necessary to hold on to.
And the other day some heart-lifting solace pushed its way through a crack on Twitter, via a tweet from Austen Ivereigh, in which he quoted a few lines from Evangelii Gaudium. His tweet sent me back to the document, which I hadn't read in ages, and to the section from which he quoted, entitled The mysterious working of the risen Christ and his Spirit (#275-280). There is in a sense nothing new in there, in that it simply expands on fundamental aspects of our faith: but maybe these are fundamentals we are in danger of allowing to slip from our grasp, as we can become swamped by darkness and despair. I can find it easy enough to believe in and base my life on Jesus' resurrection and victory over death two thousand years ago; but do I truly, deeply believe that the power and hope and new life of his resurrection permeate our world even now, daily, hourly, breaking through all its darkness and death?
Paragraph 276 feels especially for now...
Christ’s resurrection is not an event of the past; it contains a vital power which has permeated this world. Where all seems to be dead, signs of the resurrection suddenly spring up. It is an irresistible force. Often it seems that God does not exist: all around us we see persistent injustice, evil, indifference and cruelty. But it is also true that in the midst of darkness something new always springs to life and sooner or later produces fruit. On razed land life breaks through, stubbornly yet invincibly. However dark things are, goodness always re-emerges and spreads. Each day in our world beauty is born anew, it rises transformed through the storms of history. Values always tend to reappear under new guises, and human beings have arisen time after time from situations that seemed doomed. Such is the power of the resurrection, and all who evangelise are instruments of that power.
Such is the power of the resurrection... and all who love, who hope, who care and heal, act justly and tenderly, who give their lives for a bigger, wider love... are instruments of that power...
And the other day some heart-lifting solace pushed its way through a crack on Twitter, via a tweet from Austen Ivereigh, in which he quoted a few lines from Evangelii Gaudium. His tweet sent me back to the document, which I hadn't read in ages, and to the section from which he quoted, entitled The mysterious working of the risen Christ and his Spirit (#275-280). There is in a sense nothing new in there, in that it simply expands on fundamental aspects of our faith: but maybe these are fundamentals we are in danger of allowing to slip from our grasp, as we can become swamped by darkness and despair. I can find it easy enough to believe in and base my life on Jesus' resurrection and victory over death two thousand years ago; but do I truly, deeply believe that the power and hope and new life of his resurrection permeate our world even now, daily, hourly, breaking through all its darkness and death?
Paragraph 276 feels especially for now...
Christ’s resurrection is not an event of the past; it contains a vital power which has permeated this world. Where all seems to be dead, signs of the resurrection suddenly spring up. It is an irresistible force. Often it seems that God does not exist: all around us we see persistent injustice, evil, indifference and cruelty. But it is also true that in the midst of darkness something new always springs to life and sooner or later produces fruit. On razed land life breaks through, stubbornly yet invincibly. However dark things are, goodness always re-emerges and spreads. Each day in our world beauty is born anew, it rises transformed through the storms of history. Values always tend to reappear under new guises, and human beings have arisen time after time from situations that seemed doomed. Such is the power of the resurrection, and all who evangelise are instruments of that power.
Such is the power of the resurrection... and all who love, who hope, who care and heal, act justly and tenderly, who give their lives for a bigger, wider love... are instruments of that power...
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