Dear friendsAs we reach the terrible milestone of 100,000 deaths from COVID-19, we invite everyone in our nation to pause as we reflect on the enormity of this pandemic.100,000 isn’t just an abstract figure. Each number is a person: someone we loved and someone who loved us. We also believe that each of these people was known to God and cherished by God.We write to you then in consolation, but also in encouragement, and ultimately in the hope of Jesus Christ. The God who comes to us in Jesus knew grief and suffering himself. On the cross, Jesus shares the weight of our sadness.We therefore encourage everyone who is feeling scared, or lost or isolated to cast their fears on God. We also know that poorer communities, minority ethnic communities and those living with disabilities have been afflicted disproportionately and cry out for the healing of these inequalities. During this pandemic, we encourage everyone to do all they can to live within the guidelines and constraints given by government following the advice of the Chief Medical Officer and Chief Scientific Adviser. We show our commitment, care and love for one another by ensuring we do everything we can to stop the virus spreading.None of this is easy. Very many of us are experiencing isolation, loneliness, anxiety and despondency like never before. Many people have lost their livelihoods. Our economy struggles. Also, the necessary restrictions we live with have also prevented us from being alongside loved ones as they died, or even at their graveside. All grief profoundly affects us, but this pandemic grief is so hard.Therefore, we need to support each other. We do this by following the guidelines. But we also do it by reaching out to each other with care and kindness.One thing we can all do is pray. We hope it is some consolation to know that the church prays for the life of our nation every day. Whether you’re someone of faith, or not, we invite you to call on God in prayer. Starting on 1 February we invite you to set aside time every evening to pray, particularly at 6pm each day. More than ever, this is a time when we need to love each other. Prayer is an expression of love. A number of resources will be made available at www.ChurchofEngland.org/PrayerForTheNation.Finally, we write of hope. We are grateful for the hope we have because of the service of our NHS and social care staff. What a blessing and lifeline for our nation. We are grateful for the service given in local communities by clergy, other frontline workers and so many good neighbours. We are grateful for the hope of the vaccine. It is a testimony to the God-given wisdom and gifts of scientists and researchers. We urge everyone to take the vaccine as soon as it is offered to you.Most of all, we have hope because God raised Jesus from the dead. This is the Christian hope that we will be celebrating at Easter. We live in the hope that we will share in his resurrection. Death doesn’t have the last word. In God’s kingdom every tear will be wiped away.Please be assured of our prayers. Please join us.The Most Revd & Rt Hon Justin Welby (Archbishop of Canterbury)The Most Revd & Rt Hon Stephen Cottrell (Archbishop of York)
In an open letter, the Archbishops of Canterbury and York are calling the nation to pause, reflect, and remember the more than 100,000 people across the UK who have died after contracting Covid-19, and all those who know and love them.They also urge people to support each other both by following the guidelines to limit the spread of the virus and in practical ways, reaching out in care and kindness.The below prayer is being shared across social media and is available in A prayer for those who mourn.Gracious God,as we remember before you the thousands who have died,surround us and all who mourn with your strong compassion.Be gentle with us in our grief,protect us from despair,and give us grace to persevereand face the future with hopein Jesus Christ our risen Lord.Amen.
<strong>When God sighed</strong>I was reading a passage of scripture the other day when a word jumped off the page at me. It’s only one word, and not a very big one at that. It is a word that I didn’t remember seeing before, but it hit me square in the face. I found it in Mark 7: 31-35. Jesus is presented with a man who is deaf and has a speech impediment. Jesus took the man aside and looked him in the face. Knowing it would be useless to talk, he explained what he was about to do through gestures. He spat and touched the man’s tongue, telling him that whatever restricted his speech was about to be removed. He touched his ears. They, for the first time, were about to hear.But before the man said a word or heard a sound, Jesus did something I never anticipated.He sighed.One might have expected a clap, or a song or a prayer. Even a ‘Hallelujah!’ but the Son of God did none of these. Instead, he paused, looked into heaven, and sighed. From the depths of his being came a rush of emotion that said more than words.I’ve never thought of God as one who sighs. I’ve thought of God as one who commands, weeps, calls forth the dead...But a God who sighs?I have begun to wonder if this word caught my eye because I have done my fair share of sighing recently. I have sighed at the ever-increasing numbers of those who have died because of Covid. I have sighed as I have watched doctors and nurses cry because of the pressure they are under. I sighed as I watched protestors storming Capitol Hill. I sighed after I realised, I had spoken wrongly and harshly to my son.No doubt you have done your fair share of sighing.Of course, there is the sigh of relief, a sigh of expectancy, and even a sigh of joy. But that isn’t the sigh described in Mark 7. The sigh described is a hybrid of frustration and sadness. The apostle Paul spoke about sighing: he said that Christians will sigh as long as we are on earth and long for heaven; and that the creation sighs as if she were giving birth; even the Spirit sighs as he interprets our prayers (Romans 8:22-27). All these sighs come from the same anxiety; a recognition of pain that was never intended, or of hope deferred.When Jesus looked into the eyes of this man, the only appropriate thing to do was to sigh. ‘It was never intended this way,’ the sigh said. ‘Your ears weren’t made to be deaf, your tongue wasn’t made to stumble.’ In a strange sort of way, this sigh brings me comfort, because in an indirect way, God’s pain is our comfort.For it is in the agony of Jesus that our hope lies. Had he not sighed, had he not felt the burden for what was not intended, we would be in a pitiful condition. Had he simply chalked it up to the inevitable or washed his hands of the whole mess, what hope would we have?But he didn’t. That holy sigh assures us that God still groans for his people. He groans for the day when all sighs cease, when what was intended to be will be. <strong>Martin Breadmore, Archdeacon of Dorking</strong>
