Winter Is Coming

From lightning and tempest, from earthquake, fire, and flood, 

from plague and pestilence and famine; Good Lord, deliver us. 

("The Great Litany," The Book of Common Prayer, page 149)

Deliver us, Good Lord, from plague and pestilence. I freely admit to you that when 2020 began, this prayer was not on my lips or in my heart. Usually Episcopalians use "The Great Litany" to mark the beginning of Lent. There are lots of petitions in that great ancient prayer that ring true to my ear. But on March 1, 2020, on the First Sunday in Lent, that was not a line that stood out for me. Nor, I'm fairly certain, for most North American Christians.

That all changed, however, when spring arrived less than three weeks later. These are both Biblical words: in the NRSV translation you find plague used 78 times, and pestilence used 57 times. A lot of times in Exodus, of course; and a surprising number of times in the Revelation of John. And in the Psalms, including but not limited to the following: 

• He made a path for his anger; he did not spare them from death, but gave their lives over to the plague. (Psalm 78:50) 
• They provoked the Lord to anger with their deeds, and a plague broke out among them. (Psalm 106:29)
• For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler and from the deadly pestilence...(Psalm 91:3)
  

Why this little word study? Because the longer this goes on, for me at least, the less numb and in denial I feel. I admittedly spent much of the spring numb - and grieving losses. Everyone has their own lists. For me, Spring 2020 was incredibly disorienting and surreal. 

By the time summer rolled around, it was very real. And I was beginning to realize that we would never return to "normal" and that the only way through this was forward, not back. It helped me, at least, to have long days and outdoor opportunities. Very early in July, I began walking 6-8 miles every day. It helps to be an early riser and it helps that the days are long in July and August. I found a new rhythm, walking from 6 am to 8 am. It became a form of prayer for me and has become almost liturgical. Most days I walk on the Central Mass Rail Trail - I prefer a set pattern to the more adventurous walking my spouse likes to do. 

In my vocational work as Canon to the Ordinary, we were able to work with congregations to offer outdoor worship which has seemed to be relatively safe, at least in places where that was possible. 

Autumn is upon us, however. This morning when my walk began, it was closer to 7 am, since it's now pitch black at 6 and sunrise was at 7:04 am. And it was 38 degrees. 

Autumn is, in good times and in challenging times, the most beautiful season in New England. But those of us who call this home also know that it will not last. Winter is coming... We have had snow in Worcester as early as Halloween, and always by Thanksgiving the days are getting cold and dark. Even if the winter solstice does not officially arrive until December 21, signs of endings are all around us well before that. 

This brings me back to plague and pestilence. As time has gone on and as denial has given way to the hard truths of what this pandemic is doing, it is also beginning to dawn on us that the idea of "hunkering down" for the winter will be very real as we seem to be hitting the second wave of this pandemic. Outdoor worship and outdoor dining will soon be a thing of the past and the dangers of indoor gatherings as cases are again increasing is very real. The image posted above came on my I-Phone today as an alert from the state government, even as our president called the scientists "idiots." 

Winter is coming. But as always, in places that rely on the rhythm of the four seasons, we know that the green blade will also rise again. Later in New England than Virginia, to be sure. But spring will come again, as surely as summer and fall and winter will come again. And hopefully by spring, we will at least be able to see the light at the end of this tunnel. I have no insider information of when and how that will happen, but we will get to the other side of this. 

In the meantime, I am thinking about the communion of saints and the Biblical narrative that shapes my faith. I am thinking of my grandmother who used to tell us about family members who died a hundred years ago, from the plague of Influenza and the Great War. She is now among that cloud of witnesses but I would give anything to sit and chat with her about what it was like to live through 1918-1919. What I do know, though, is that she was a survivor and so many others were too. And there was life on the other side of it. In fact, after it all ended, there was dancing in the "roaring twenties" just as there was singing and dancing after the Hebrew people escaped from Egypt. (See Exodus 15.)

This may be uncharted territory for all of us who are alive today. But it helps me, at least, to ponder the idea that it's not brand new for God's people. Plague and pestilence are a part of the human experience throughout history. Thankfully, even the Bubonic Plague had a beginning, a middle, and an end. It did not last forever. Life is being changed, but not ended, before our very eyes. We will find our way through this wilderness. Winter is coming. But that won't be the end of the story. Just the next chapter.