The
experience of lockdown was the sort of thing one of my teachers long ago liked
to call very pedagogical. We had
confinement, stability and relative simplicity... and for those who wanted it,
we had a sustained look at ourselves. It
confronted us with our capacity, or lack thereof, to be content with what we
had. Having said that, perhaps we should
add that many of us still enjoyed considerable warmth, food and safety, while
on the other hand, many had and still have real anxieties about employment and
income and the future. The capacity of
many for lockdown was shaky. It was
strange, it could be scary, and for some claustrophobic… People invented all manner of games and ploys
to structure time and energy, to stave off boredom, and they videoed themselves
at it -- and when lockdown and distancing were lifted some 40,000 poured into
Eden Park for a rugby game, and into pubs, night clubs and restaurants for
rapturous relief and celebration.
Possibly
the most famous story from the Desert Fathers and Mothers of many centuries ago
is this one: A brother came to Scetis to visit Abba Moses and asked him
“Father, give me a word.” The old man said to him “Go, sit in your cell, and
your cell will teach you everything.” Now we need our imaginations...
Your cell or mine for a while may have been the strange circumstances of
the lockdown. For Mahatma Gandhi or
Nelson Mandela, and for many others, it was their actual enforced detention, in
which they had to learn to obey what is, rather than what they might prefer. In the pandemic lockdown some have been
consigned to a 4- or 5-star hotel room for 14 days... comfortable, maybe a nice
view, equipped with TV and internet and cell phone, nice food brought to you...
all so far paid by the taxpayer... and yet this can be a nightmare. Your cell, for some, is a happy home and
family – for others it is not quite like that, but it is where they are. The day’s extended duties may be your cell,
or serious commitments at work. Arriving
to live in a retirement village, with reduced space, different community, burnt
bridges… it may be that. Or your private
and hidden set of burdens and tensions is where you are. Or it may be the grief and loss that is there
when you wake up and never goes far away.
Go
into your cell and sit down, says Abba Moses. Go into your room and shut the door,
says Jesus[1].
Pledge yourself to the walls, advises someone else. What is so magic about that? The magic is that your cell is the opposite
of escape and denial. Dietrich
Bonhoeffer was confined to a Gestapo prison cell, condemned to death. There he read[2]
how Moses, about to die, was taken to Mount Nebo from where the Lord showed
him all the land. Bonhoeffer came to
know the grace by which he could see what Jews call ha’aretz, the Land,
the scope of God’s love and providence and purpose... and God’s presence. Martin Luther King famously said, I have
been to the mountain top, I have seen the promised land... and he went on
to say how they would get there, he would not.
Your cell will teach you everything, gently, once you know how to
be still and silent… once you have learned, as Jesus said, the leaving of self
behind… once you have begun to say yes to faith rather than fear…
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