The fiesta of St Joseph the Worker today, if there had been any celebrations across Spain. Numbers of deaths and infected persons continues to mount, despite all the strict measures being taken. The weather has been a little milder today, sometimes cloudy, although the clouds are on the move and better weather is promised over the weekend, but that's not going to impact upon the course of this pandemic sadly.
Talk around the world is about how to stave off the possibility of another global recession, of the holiday industry, public entertainment and more airlines going bankrupt. Normal patterns of work and consumption are being disrupted, cutting vital income to pay employees, not to mention rent, and taxes. In a globalised world reliant on stable communications and digital cash-flow, everything is suddenly volatile. Europe is now the worst infected region of the planet. It's hard to be optimistic, even when so many people are being bravely stoical about getting through this. Return to the kind of normality we're used to could take a long while, or even not happen at all.
In his doom laden yet hope filled first Epistle to the Thessalonians Paul uses the phrase 'The Day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night.' in relation to the crisis prone times he lived through. It was a phrase denoting divine judgement at the end of the world, when all will be held accountable for their actions and inaction in this life, for good and for ill. It would be tantamount the blasphemy to blame God for our present crisis. It is hugely complex but entirely man-made. Our sins against the environment and against own own higher moral nature are exposing our collective failing and sin. We are being called already to think hard about the kind of future we really want and need as a human species which has already had such a profound negative impact on our earthly home. It a sobering thought. We have so much, we stand to lose so much, perhaps everything, if we survive this pandemic.
From Alicante, Roy sent me a remarkable text by American Franciscan Fr Richard Rohr, reflecting on this pandemic and the impact on us of the human loss of life it entails. Very suitable reading for Lent and Passiontide You can find it here.
Overnight I soaked 500g of chick peas and was surprised and pleased at how little cooking time they needed this morning. Four fifths of them are set aside to be added to future dishes, one fifth I turned into a tasty hummous, nice and easy. I also followed a recommendation to make a mug of tea using only one whole chopped up lemon, steeped in hot water. There are so many on the tree outside the front door that would otherwise fall and not get used. It tasted delicious, even without sugar, such is the quality of the fruit.
I finished editing my Sunday sermon, but didn't get around to recording it today. That has priority tomorrow. It's amazing how much time gets absorbed with WhatsApp messaging, emails and phone calls, especially as everyone is forcibly less busy because of lock-down here, or prudent precautions taken back in the UK. It sounds as if Britain may be locked down this weekend, despite government reluctance to take drastic measures other countries see as necessary.
I did my five miles walking the perimeter of the house today. It takes some getting used to, seventy five paces per circuit. Horribly dull. I remind myself of people imprisoned, like Terry Waite and Gonville Ffrench-Breytagh who got their daily exercise walking up and down a cell just a dozen or so paces long. It's luxury to be outdoors with greenery. The lizards were out on the wall of the raised flower bed, scampering into the undergrowth every time I passed. It took me ages to work out how I could get pictures of them in full view out in the sun, but I was pleased with the resulting photos.
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