St. Martin’s Davis 10:00 AM Service (via Zoom)
The Ven. Margaret M. Grayden
Lent 2B—“Choosing Hope in a Time of Lament” February 28, 2021
As we near the first anniversary of the pandemic and the sudden and dramatic changes it brought to our lives, we’ve hit some sobering milestones. As of this past week, over 2.5 million people have died worldwide from the disease caused by the coronavirus, COVID-19: 500,000 in U.S., over 50,000 in CA, and even closer to home, 185 right here in Yolo County. It’s hard to take in the enormity of those deaths. Each one represents a precious soul created in the image of God, someone who loved life, someone who left behind family and friends who are now living in a world of pain. As if that weren’t enough, there have been so many other losses—losses too great to number. The loss of jobs, of homes, of health, of assumptions about how the world works—even the loss of the ability to gather in person to mourn all we have lost. So many losses, so much grief for us to navigate, both individually and collectively.
And we wonder, “How long, Lord?” How long will we have to keep living in this unnatural way? How long until we reach herd immunity? How long until we can meet in person without having to wear masks and stay at least six feet apart? How long until we can hug loved ones who don’t live in our household? How long until our children and young adults can return to in-person classes, until our battered economy can fully reopen? How long until we can gather in our beloved sanctuary to worship God in word and song?
“How long?” is the language of lament. It’s the passionate cry, the anguished yearning that is such a rich stew of emotions: anger, grief, regret, even repentance. There’s so much to lament these days. We lament the structural inequality that the pandemic has laid bare in this country and in the world. We lament the politicization of the simple public health measures that could have stopped this pandemic in its tracks months ago if universally adopted, such as mask wearing, physical distancing, and handwashing. We lament the many missed opportunities to plan for distribution of vaccines in an organized, fair and equitable way.
You can find examples of lament throughout Holy Scripture. The psalm appointed for today, Psalm 22, is one of them. It is read on Good Friday every year, and begins with the haunting and poignant cry, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? And are so far from my cry and from the words of my distress?” But today, we get the second half (verses 22-30) of that psalm, which has a dramatically different flavor from the lament of the first half. The verses we heard remind us that God does not “despise” or “abhor” us in our poverty and weakness, in our times of trial. Even when it feels like God is absent, God does not hide from us. God hears us when we cry out. Above all, God is faithful. God is with us in our places of desolation as well as in our places of exultation. Indeed, God’s faithfulness is the consolation that enables us to keep on keeping on as our pandemic journey continues to unfold.
To be sure, there are causes for frustration and concern right now: the constantly-shifting priorities and strategies for vaccination, the rise of vaccine hesitancy, challenges in the production and distribution of vaccines due to supply chain issues and winter storms, and states (including our own) that rely on difficult-to-navigate web-based vaccination appointment systems that are inaccessible to many of our most vulnerable and marginalized brothers and sisters who are unable to access reliable high-speed Internet service. But that’s not the whole story.
According to psychologist and author Rick Hanson, the brain “is like Velcro for negative experiences but Teflon for positive ones.”[1] It’s not that we don’t see the positive, but rather that it tends not to stick with us, whereas the negative tends to hang around. That’s actually a biological thing. It’s the way that we are wired. You could say that the brain has a built-in negativity bias. But the same God who created our brains also gave us free will. We are not simply subject to the whims of our emotions; we choose where to place our attention. Psychologists also tell us that what we pay attention to grows deeper roots, so it behooves us to choose wisely.
As Christians, we live in hope. Living in hope is not a passive activity; it requires actively cultivating that hope, just as we would cultivate a garden, attending to what is good and healthy and life-giving in our lives. That’s not to say that we shouldn’t notice what is not good in the world, that we shouldn’t grieve our losses, that we shouldn’t lament injustice, that we shouldn’t continue the work of building Beloved Community. Rather, it’s a reminder not to let the difficulties overwhelm us. Even as we acknowledge the hard places, let’s notice the good things that are happening, and focus on how many and varied are the sources of hope for us—even in this challenging time.
There is a lot for which we can and should be grateful. Here are a few examples. COVID-19 cases are steadily declining from January’s highs, both locally and nationally. In Yolo County, our metrics have improved enough to move us from the most restrictive purple tier to the red tier, thanks in large part to the amazing work of the Healthy Davis Together partnership. The move from the purple tier to the red tier is allowing some local businesses to reopen and others to expand service. It also makes it possible for students who have attended school virtually for nearly a year to return to either in-person or hybrid school. And just yesterday, we learned that the FDA has approved a third highly-effective vaccine, which many experts consider a game-changer.
And so we keep on keeping on, waiting in faith. Today’s reading from Genesis has something to say about that. Consider Abraham and Sarah. Their faith was tested many times—being called from their home in Ur to become strangers in a strange land, remaining childless for decades at a time and in a culture in which having heirs was everything. Yet they put one foot in front of the other, day after day, living their lives as best they could, doing their part to fulfill the covenant God had made with them. And in the fullness of time, at a point in her life when it was biologically impossible to do so, Sarah did bear a son, just as God had promised. God was faithful, and Abraham and Sarah were faithful. As inheritors of that promise, we too are called to be faithful, even in the face of uncertainty about when God’s promises to us will be fulfilled. Now more than ever, we need to keep the faith, choose hope, and—one day at a time—do the next right thing, knowing that God is with us, even “to the end of the age.”[2]
AMEN
[1] Rick Hanson, Ph.D., Hardwiring Happiness: The New Brain Science of Contentment, Calm, and Confidence (New York: Harmony Books, 2013), p. 27.
[2] Matthew 28:20
