So, I've recently started reading The Splendid and the Vile: A Saga of Churchill, Family, and Defiance During the Blitz, by Erik Larson. It’s the story of Winston Churchill’s first days in office, beginning in May, 1940, when he formed a coalition government with Labour, to lead Britain.
If Churchill is the main character in the book, Larson has a wide ranging cast of supporters, including his wife, Clementine, his children,, other government officials, and, of course, the British people, who faced down months of the German Blitz in 1940 and 1941.
Near the end of the Battle of Britain, the Germans switched tactics, and from September, 1940, to May, 1941, they subjected the British to near nightly bombing raids. In London herself, there was a string when they were bombed for 56 of 57 continuous days.
The Blitz tells us something about the enduring character of humankind. Day after day, the British would wake up, knowing deep down that when night fell the bombs would fall, too. And that today would be just like yesterday, and tomorrow would be like today.
The average Londoner had no choice in the matter. The bombs were coming. They couldn't stop them. But they could do one thing, they could last one day longer than the Germans had bombs.
And they were led by a competent and courageous Parliament, Prime Minister, and Royal Family. After the Blitz, Churchill was speaking to the boys of Harrow School in late 1941.
No doubt looking back at the previous year of peril, he told them, “This is the lesson: never give in, never give in, never, never, never, never—in nothing, great or small, large or petty—never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense. Never yield to force; never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy.”
I've been thinking about this crucial period of history lately. So much is happening right now in our nation that it sometimes seems like we are under assault every single day. And that each day is like the last and will be like the next. And if you're like me then it feels like you wake up every morning thinking, “Oh, God, what is it this time?”
And on top of that, it seems like even our day-to-day difficulties take on tragic form. In our isolation, television and the computer are even more influential, and frankly, that influence feeds into the tragedy.
And I have been thinking about Fr. Brooks this week. Even without COVID and racial unrest and general upset throughout the nation, his life has been rough this year. He's lost family members, suffered through a family member's bitter divorce, and just last week lost a friend to suicide. And with the pandemic, reaching out to people to offer help – or receive it – is limiting to the point of being near debilitating.
This is hard, too, for friends. There's quite a bit of land between the swamp of being unable to help and the arid desert of offering too much advice designed to simply fix things. And it's hard, when it seems like everyone is on edge and everything sets us there, to find the right place to stand with friends who need us, especially if standing too close is a danger in and of itself.
Brooks and I were talking about some of this, and I said that I think when this time of crisis passes, that decades from now children will ask those of us who survived this how we did it. And like those in Britain during the Blitz, we will say, “We endured. We just endured. And we didn't give up. We helped each other, and we prayed.”
The great philosopher, Piglet, once had a dialogue with his friend Pooh: “Pooh!,” he whispered. “Yes, Piglet?” “Nothing,” said Piglet, taking Pooh's paw. “I just wanted to be sure of you.” Perhaps that's all we can do right now.
Because this is, if nothing else, the Year of Job. It is the year of being God's People in the Wilderness.
But even in the wilderness, God is there. In Leviticus God is there, reminding the Children of God of to be Holy, that this wilderness time is holy time, and in this time holiness calls us.
In this wilderness, with all against us, we are still called on to love. To love God. To love our neighbor. It's always the case, isn't it. As hard as it can be in our wilderness, it's still the case. It's still hard. And it's still a simple proposition.
So, what are we as Children of God doing to serve God in the wilderness we wander? What are we as Christians doing to close the gap between us and those around us who suffer, between us and those who we hurt? What will it take us to remember that we are holy because God our Creator is holy?
Saint Paul, in First Thessalonians, calls us to serve God so fully with our lives that we share not only the power of the Gospel but our very selves. Is our relationship with God a thing of extravagant caring where people can bring the whole of themselves to us and be upheld in their joy or their pain? What does loving others mean for those of us who follow Christ? Because THEY are holy, too, just as Christ is holy.
But how?
And of course, this Holy Jesus, harkening back to those Children in the Wilderness, very succinctly brings us back to the how: love God and love your neighbor as yourself. It’s hard to be the people of God if our hearts are full of fear, hatred, or despair.
But it's also hard not to fear and hate and despair. And yet, that is our charge. Period. As Christians that is what we are called to do. Period. Sure we can't do it on our own, but by opening our lives and souls and, yes, saying our prayers, God enters those lives and enters those souls and leads the way to loving others, if only we allow God's Spirit in.
So... we sit here, today, and I know it's easy to wonder what we can do and to feel a little despair. We know we are only a few voices in a country of hundreds of millions on a planet of billions. None of us are Moses, or Paul, or Jesus. But we can act anyway. We can reach for God while we reach out to others, and we CAN make a difference.
The majority of us lead quiet, unheralded lives as we pass through this world. There will most likely be no ticker tape parades for us, no monuments created in our honor.
But that does not lessen our possible impact, for there are scores of people waiting for someone just like us to come along; people who will appreciate our compassion, our encouragement, who will need our prayers, who will need our love. Someone who will live a happier life merely because we took the time to share what we had to give. Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, a small act of caring, a prayer.
Loving God, and loving our neighbor.
“Pooh!,” he whispered. “Yes, Piglet?” “Nothing,” said Piglet, taking Pooh's paw. “I just wanted to be sure of you.”
Amen.