The year is almost over and not a moment too soon. It’s been a strange twelve months, marked by political upheaval and a seemingly neverending succession of scandals, conspiracies and the overturning of everything we hoped was secure. If there’s a season for everything under Heaven, then 2017 has been a time to mourn.
2016 was characterised by the loss of beloved cultural figures like David Bowie and Alan Rickman and Carrie Fisher, and we mourned their loss. This year was different, the Hollywood Apocalypse, the unveiling of so many crimes, the sins pf men like Kevin Spacey and Harvey Weinstein laid bare.
It’s fair to grieve and rage about all this, necessary even; we grieve and mourn, and maybe we’ll even be inspired to pick up a pen, or a guitar, or a script. Because while the Holy Spirit is a Comforter, he’s also an Inspiration and an Encourager, and if he can give Bezalel the vision to create beauty in the desert, maybe he’ll give us ears to hear new music, eyes to see new art, a Pentecost heart to speak new words. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted, and sometimes through being comforted, through our tears, new possibilities are born. And blessed are those who cry out for justice, who were courageous enough to type #MeToo and in doing so dragged deeds of darkness out into the light. Let’s never forget that this comes at a cost; the world doesn’t always embrace justice as it should.
Then there’s Yemen, there’s Syria, there’s Grenfell and Manchester and Las Vegas, wars and rumours of wars. May we see the destruction sown around the world and be moved to cry out for justice and hope. The Children of God are peacemakers, or shold be, and this last year has been a reminder that we should lean into that inheritance, that we shouldn’t accept the world as it is, but instead work to build bridges, to break down walls, to beat swords into ploughshares. And where we’re suffering from apathy and compassion fatigue, may we be given an appetite for justice, may we hunger and thirst for righteousness and cry out to God to be filled.
That’s been difficult this year; something seems to have broken and the world lurches out of control. Fake News and conspiracies and trolling and gaslighting have replaced debate and compromise, democracy even. So many are fighting all this, but they’re tired; the fight goes on, but the war is long. We need to look after each other, those who fight and those under attack. Too many choose to take their own lives because of the weight of the world, to many are crushed within the gears. 2018 is the year that a broken machine needs to be fixed.
And so we mourn those we’ve lost. We mourn the upswing in prejudice and bigotry, we mourn the trolling, we mourn the hate speech. We mourn what we may become, we mourn the darkness we may be stumbling towards. We have to decide how we respond to this – with complicity, with malice, or with a desire for justice tempered with mercy and grace. This is our choice going forward.
2017 is about to recede into history; we stand at that liminal time of year at which a pregnant future swirls before us, ripe with both opportunities and fears. And we all walk towards it; no-one can stay behind, but in the midst of it may we glimpse Christ beckoning us forward, calling us to be compassionate, calling us to be creative, calling us to stand. 2018 opens its arms to receive us, to welcome or to crush we don’t yet know. Whichever it is, may a light still shine in the dark; may a better Kingdom come.