Encountering the fauna of the night
A Sermon by The Rev’d Dr Lynn Arnold AO
[Readings: Isaiah 50:4-9a; Psalm 31:9-18; Philippians 2:5-11; Matthew 26:14- 27:66]
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be worthy in your sight, O Lord, our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen.
This coming Thursday, Maundy Thursday, Lent will come to an end. I know many give up something for Lent, as I do some years. Whether you did so or not, there can be no doubting that this year it might have seemed that the world gave up on us for Lent. Stuart Langshaw posted a meme from Episcopalians Online which really said it all – “This is the Lentiest Lent I ever Lented.”
On Ash Wednesday, February 26, as in previous years we were reminded: Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.
By that same day 82,000 cases of COVID-19 had been recorded globally since the first case on January 10, 23 of those in Australia; 2,700 of those cases had resulted in death by then, none of those in Australia.
Lent is due to finish on Maundy Thursday. On current trends, by then those figures will have grown globally to over 1.5 million and 100,000 deaths, with Australia looking at the prospect of 10,000 cases with a total of about 100 deaths.
Australia has fared comparatively well and we should give thanks to all those who have played key roles in that being so – doctors, nurses and carers who are directly on the front line; health agencies with their epidemiologists and contact tracers who are key parts of containment of the virus; those making policy and regulations for community protection and well-being – from the Prime Minister down, including the bipartisan National Cabinet, as well as federal and state governments; and also all Australians who are doing their bit to physically distance themselves, isolate when necessary yet at the same time showing social togetherness through offering succour to those who are at risk, or in economic need, or comfort to those who are anxious about the uncertain months ahead.
To varying degrees, we are all feeling anxious about the situation. I don’t know about you, but I have actually felt myself in something of a wilderness during this time – a spiritual wilderness though, not a spiritual desert, for I have never doubted that God reigns and through Christ, His will be the ultimate victory. I resonate with Psalm 118:29, read during the Liturgy of Palms this morning:
O give thanks to the Lord, for he is good and his mercy endures for ever.
These words speak with certainty, with truth. Yet they were written by David who would also write, when he was in the wilderness, fleeing from Saul:
O God, you are my God: eagerly will I seek you. My soul thirsts for you, my flesh longs for you as a dry and thirsty land where no water is. [63:1-2]
David knew what it was to spend time in a spiritual wilderness yearning, thirsting for God. I guess that speaks to how I have been feeling these past weeks. Jesus too spent time in the wilderness, there he was tempted by Satan and was waited upon by angels – we know this from Mark 1:13, where we also read that Jesus was with the wild beasts.
Some years ago, when I put myself through a rigorous Lent to help my spiritual seeking, there were times when my journey was not only hard it was deeply confronting. I mentioned this to Peter Burke from Anglicare who responded with a question:
If Jesus encountered beasts in the wilderness, why did you not expect to encounter the fauna of the night?
His phrase ‘fauna of the night’ came from a poem by Jim Cotter. His question spoke profoundly to me then; and during this past Lent in the context of COVID-19, has done so again. These beasts I encountered were not for personal reasons but for the sake of all of us, not just here but globally. I have been distressed by reports of a predicted ‘tsunami’ of deaths in countries both rich and poor; it has left me feeling a sense of helplessness. Additionally, there has been a deep concern about the economic capacity of the world to provide for all of humanity following the huge disruption that the virus has caused. We know of the economic toll here, which is mirrored in many Western countries, but it takes on even greater magnitude in countries of the South. In the wake of an Indian lockdown to combat the virus, Ali Hasan, a street vendor in Allahabad told a BBC reporter:
I am very scared. I have a family, how am I going to feed them?
His was but one voice from among hundreds of millions who doubtless would say the same. In the face of such pleas, are there any blessings at all in what is happening? Dr Brian Harris, Principal of Vose College in Perth, has written a blog entitled COVID-19 and complicated blessings. [The complete blog is copied at the end of the printed version of this sermon]. In this blog he tackles the question of what possible good can have come of this twenty-first century pestilence which has caused such massive disruption to our world and the lives of all of us. He handles the concept of ‘blessing’ with caution and humanity writing:
I don’t want to downplay the downside. Thousands of people have already lost their lives, hundreds of thousands more are likely to. I get there is no way you can attach the word ‘blessing’ to that. Around the world, millions of jobs have been lost, and many families are desperately wondering what the future holds for them. I get that you can’t attach the word ‘blessing’ to that.
He continues:
For some COVID-19 is a bothersome inconvenience, for others it is the death of most what has been held dear. I get that those in the second group would feel a deep sense of betrayal if I attempted to attach the word ‘blessing’ to what they are going through. But blessings can be complicated, and good can come from brokenness.
I quoted Jim Cotter a few moments ago in reference to ‘fauna of the night’; it transpires that these words are the title of a poem; this is the first verse:
Encounter them…
Contemplate them…
Dare to look steadily at them…
Wrestle with them…
Expect to be wounded in the struggle with them…
Name them…
Recognise them…
And be blessed by them…
If, like me, you have felt in a spiritual wilderness these past weeks, have you been able to ‘to dare to look steadily at’ the fauna of the night, and wrestled with them? Brian Harris did and came up with a list of three ‘complicated blessings’:
• We have affirmed that vulnerable people matter and that saving lives is more important than saving the economy.
• We are being given the gift of slowing down … perhaps as we stay home, we will discover where home truly is … (and) we will sometimes discover how broken our relationships are.
• As most church activities are cancelled, we get to ask ‘so which did we miss?’ It gives us a chance … to ask what it means to be a community of people on a journey of following Jesus.
Jim Cotter’s poem described the ‘fauna of the night’ as ‘hidden in the grass of (our) neglect’. As we consider the fauna that prowl in the night of our spiritual wilderness, the fears and the doubts, especially at times such as this, may we find something precious which we may have previously neglected – ‘complicated blessings’? Brian Davis asks the question relating to the affirmation that vulnerable people matter:
Am I the only one who has noticed that this is a thoroughly Christian response. We might live in a post-Christian era, but protecting the most vulnerable is definitely the Christian thing to do. I suspect it is one that pleases the heart of God.
I spoke earlier about David in the wilderness of Judah; John Donne wrote about this spiritual wilderness commenting particularly on Psalm 63 and of the inherent hope within that wilderness whatever the fauna of the night. He wrote:
(David’s) distress in the wilderness … carried him upon the memory of that which God had done for him before; and the remembrance of that carried him upon that of which he assured himself after. Fix upon God anywhere and you shall find him a circle. He is with you now, when you fix upon him; he was with you before, for he brought you to this fixation; and he will be with you hereafter, for, ‘He is yesterday, and today, and the same forever.’
This is Palm Sunday, a day for waving palms in remembrance of welcoming an earthly messiah into Jerusalem which leads to Easter Day when we will remember our divine messiah.
By Maundy Thursday, after the Last Supper, we will recall Jesus going into the Garden of Gethsemane, encountering a wilderness where the fauna of the night – fear and uncertainty – assailed him. We sense that Jesus wavered in the face of them as he cried:
My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me. [v39]
Yet He overcame them saying:
Your will be done. [v42]
The next afternoon, Jesus would again encounter the fauna of the night as he hung upon the wilderness of the cross crying out:
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me. [27:46]
Matthew’s Gospel was silent on further words from Jesus, but we know from Luke that once again he overcame them saying:
Father, into your hands I commend my spirit. [23:46]
On this Palm Sunday we wave palms no longer reminiscent of the crowds in Jerusalem, but now crafted into a cross which reminds us that Jesus, through his Resurrection, has met us in our spiritual wilderness and ministers to us, commending us to give our spirit into his hands.
Hosanna to the King of Kings, lead us from the fauna of our spiritual wildernesses.
Copy of Blog by Dr Brian Harris, principal of Vose College, Perth
– https://brianharrisauthor.com/covid-19-and-complicated-blessings/
COVID – 19 and Complicated Blessings…
Posted by Brian Harris on Mar 28, 2020
I am writing this at a little after 3 in the morning, my jet lagged body refusing to accept that now is the time it is supposed to be asleep. Like many travellers around the world, I have been through a complicated process of rushing home as national borders close, and almost all international flights are cancelled. True, Rosemary and I had been so enjoying my sabbatical leave at Carson Newman University in the USA that we were tempted to miss the last flights out, and thought that there could be worse fates than being trapped on Carson Newman’s beautiful campus in Tennessee. But common sense prevailed and we are safely back in Perth, Australia, and in the early stages of our two week isolation period, grateful that our house is large enough to prevent us going stir crazy whilst in its confines. Its long passage enabled me to clock up 8000 steps yesterday, though Rosemary likened me to a pacing tiger at the zoo, and I did often peer out the window and wonder what it will feel like to walk the pleasant pathways of our suburb again.
Naturally I’ve been thinking about the COVID-19 pandemic and trying to make some sense of a world that appears to have changed so dramatically in a matter of weeks. Strangely my main sense is that it is a complicated blessing – one which while devastating in so many respects, also has the potential for significant good.
Now I don’t want to downplay the downside. Thousands of people have already lost their lives, hundreds of thousands more are likely to. I get that there is no way you can attach the word “blessing” to that. Around the world, millions of jobs have been lost, and many families are desperately wondering what the future holds for them. I get that you can’t attach the word “blessing” to that. At a more ordinary level, many valid plans, hopes and dreams have been shattered. I’m not going to tell one of my students from Carson Newman who had to cancel his wedding because of COVID-19 to attach the word “blessing” to the cancelation. There has been a great deal of pain, and as always, it is not evenly distributed. For some COVID-19 is a bothersome inconvenience, for others it is the death of most of what has been held dear. I get that those in the second group would feel a deep sense of betrayal if I attempted to attach the word “blessing” to what they are going through.
But blessings can be complicated, and good can come from brokenness. Here are some things that have heartened me in this crisis.
- We have affirmed that vulnerable people matter, and that saving lives is more important than saving the economy. We have long been taught that the fittest survive, and while we don’t try to trample on the vulnerable, we have built a world where that routinely happens. This time it is a little different. Not everyone is at equal risk in this crisis, your vulnerability increasing steadily with your age. In addition, if you have a pre existing health condition, you are at far greater risk. Most people who catch the virus will experience much the same inconvenience that you have when you catch flu – its annoying for a few days, and then its over. So why stop the global economy for that? Answer – because vulnerable people matter and for many of them catching the virus is a death sentence. And vulnerable people do matter – matter more than the economy actually. Am I the only one who has noticed that this is a thoroughly Christian response. We might live in a post-Christian era, but protecting the most vulnerable is definitely the Christian thing to do. I suspect it is one that pleases the heart of God. Let’s give three cheers for the global response. Sometimes we get our priorities right.
- As many countries move to a complete lockdown, and people have to spend several weeks at home, we are being given the gift of slowing down. True, those in the frontline of fighting the pandemic are busier than ever, but millions have been sent home for several weeks, their contribution to fighting the virus being to stay at home. It is strange to think that in this crisis the way I best love my neighbor is to keep out of their way – or at least, keep out of physical proximity to them – but then this is a strange time. Perhaps as we stay home, we will discover where home truly is. For some this will be a joyous affirmation. Many parents will spend more time with their children over the next few weeks than they usually do in many months. Great good can come from that. Spouses will have more time together. Great good can come from that. We will have time to master technology and learn how to stay in touch with one another – perhaps we will Facetime friends we haven’t spoken to for years. Great good can come from that. I even noticed that sales of my books have had a little spike. Perhaps people will start to read again. Great good can come from that. And yes, blessings are often complicated. As we are forced to spend time in isolation together we will sometimes discover how broken our relationships are. There will be more than a fair few marital arguments over this time – all the time being spent together highlighting unresolved issues that until now were being glossed over. Tough though that is, if we respond to it constructively, it could be a complicated blessing. Slowing down helps us to spot things we often miss… perhaps we will adopt it as a practice long after this crisis is over.
- As churches temporarily shut their services down, we get to ask the “so what is church?” question. We have already seen churches respond creatively to the crisis by moving services online, and by embracing the gift of technology more fully. As most church activities are cancelled, we get to ask the “so which did we miss?” question. It gives us a chance to evaluate what we have been doing, and to ask what it means to be a community of people on a journey of following Jesus. It might help us to gain clarity about what it means to be a twenty first century church, and it gives us the opportunity to explore new ways of being community. This has to be a good thing. And perhaps when we are alone at home, we will discover that we are never really alone. God is often found in the silence; perhaps this will be a time where we become quiet enough to hear the voice of God.
There are many more things that I could say – but its now almost 5am so I better get off to bed. COVID-19 means different things to different people. If for you it brings enormous pain – I am truly sorry. Life sometimes has seasons of overwhelming pain… But perhaps for others there can be some complicated blessings that we shouldn’t miss.
May you experience God’s presence as you travel through this challenging time.
