We live in interesting times... some of us have taken to saying, rather too often. Interesting is, at the moment, a useful euphemism - for painful, unstable, uncertain, terrifying, heart-rending, divided, unpredictable, bewildering... Definitely bewildering: I used to be able to watch news from parliament or about politics in general with a good enough idea of who was saying or doing what, and why, and what the consequences of this or that might be; now, though, I am more often confused than not. What with Brexit, austerity and a host of other things, the national news, whether in the papers or on TV, is invariably depressing, rather than truly "interesting".
And, of course, for Catholics there is little respite in other news, with wave upon wave of fresh revelations of abuse, cover-ups and denial. A tweet yesterday from the Pope was probably meant as a response to these scandals, but could just as easily speak reassurance to those of us wearied and despairing of Brexit, and the gaping wounds it has opened up in the UK:
In the darkest moments of our history, the Lord draws near, opens paths, lifts up discouraged faith, anoints wounded hope, and awakens sleeping charity.
And in the midst of all this, nature and the seasons, unperturbed, continue to carry us towards spring. Regardless of these "darkest moments of our history" the days are noticeably longer; dusk has moved away from mid-afternoon, and into the cusp between late afternoon and early evening. Snowdrops, crocuses and now the first daffodils reassure us of winter's end and the imminence of spring. And this morning, glancing out at our garden, my attention was caught by this strikingly coloured pansy. Pansies, for me, are wonderfully individual flowers, with plenty of personality: I fancy this one is staring at me in a somewhat fierce and feisty way, telling me to stop, and notice the signs of new life just beginning to emerge from hardened soil and bare branches.
Yesterday evening, social media led me to Justin Welby's address to the General Synod, and in particular the final few sentences:
Let us allow the Spirit to warm our hearts with affection and love for one another, to constrain us with the love of Christ. Let the Spirit of Jesus cause us to imagine how we can be the good news we proclaim.
We are not, in this Church, optimists or pessimists. We are those who hope because we are all followers of the risen Christ, sinners yet justified, failures, cracked pots of clay, yet with the only treasure that is the only final answer to the bleakness of a world that too often finds its despair in seeking its own answers without Christ, and needs the light and hope of the Gospel that is in our hands to proclaim.
To be the good news we proclaim... To be good news in a time when news is bad, dispiriting, a cause of anxiety or division... To be THE good news... Which means being people who lift up discouraged faith and anoint wounded hope... and above all, to be people so captured and caught up by the love of Christ that we can only be people who love, and whose very lives proclaim the risen, all-conquering Love which is at the heart of all our hope and faith. Dear God... help me - help us - be that good news...
And, of course, for Catholics there is little respite in other news, with wave upon wave of fresh revelations of abuse, cover-ups and denial. A tweet yesterday from the Pope was probably meant as a response to these scandals, but could just as easily speak reassurance to those of us wearied and despairing of Brexit, and the gaping wounds it has opened up in the UK:
In the darkest moments of our history, the Lord draws near, opens paths, lifts up discouraged faith, anoints wounded hope, and awakens sleeping charity.
Yesterday evening, social media led me to Justin Welby's address to the General Synod, and in particular the final few sentences:
Let us allow the Spirit to warm our hearts with affection and love for one another, to constrain us with the love of Christ. Let the Spirit of Jesus cause us to imagine how we can be the good news we proclaim.
We are not, in this Church, optimists or pessimists. We are those who hope because we are all followers of the risen Christ, sinners yet justified, failures, cracked pots of clay, yet with the only treasure that is the only final answer to the bleakness of a world that too often finds its despair in seeking its own answers without Christ, and needs the light and hope of the Gospel that is in our hands to proclaim.
To be the good news we proclaim... To be good news in a time when news is bad, dispiriting, a cause of anxiety or division... To be THE good news... Which means being people who lift up discouraged faith and anoint wounded hope... and above all, to be people so captured and caught up by the love of Christ that we can only be people who love, and whose very lives proclaim the risen, all-conquering Love which is at the heart of all our hope and faith. Dear God... help me - help us - be that good news...
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