Usually, on 1st January I would offer a relatively short (though never rushed) Mass with just a few lines dropped as a sermon addressed to a relatively small congregation. Over the years I learnt first-hand that any serious dissertation delivered from the pulpit makes little sense as fine details get lost in the post-Hogmanay haze. Usually, the Mass would be over quickly and we would disperse to continue full post-party recovery back at home. You probably haven’t noticed that I’ve already used the word ‘usually’ twice in a short space of time and that most of my utterances used the conditional mood… There’s a good reason for that: usually, New Year’s Day doesn’t fall on a Sunday. This year it does, and it means that a full-fat sermon should be provided. In fact, I started working on it a few days ago, thinking about the theme and researching it. Only last Friday I had a light-bulb moment (or was it inspired by the Holy Spirit?) that many people in the congregation would be affected by the post-Hogmanay haze. Like each New Year’s Day – whether it is Sunday or any other day of the week – a few would crave a miraculous cure for a hangover, and most would crave rest, peace and quiet more than any erudite homily. So, inspired by the Holy Spirit – let’s stick with such a convenient interpretation of my light-bulb moment – I decided to limit myself to good wishes for this New Year that has just begun.
Exactly one year ago most of us looked forward cautiously to the new year. The Omicron variant of Covid had just turned out to be much less noxious than predicted and it looked like we would gradually emerge on the other side of the pandemic and return to normality. The future looked quite hopeful, with all the restrictions being relaxed and dropped at ever greater speed. Too good to be true… On 24 February a small-minded, delusional dictator with an ego larger than the landmass of his country waged a bloody war on his peaceful neighbour and as a result, caused suffering and death on a huge scale to fulfil his outdated imperial ambitions. The war indirectly exacerbated the oncoming economic challenges and difficulties, which were then made even harder by the hare-brained activities of our governing elites. These are just a few examples of how unexpectedly badly last year turned out to be. Or did it?
It’s easy to paint a gloomy picture and it certainly is true for many, to mention the Ukrainians by name or those who really struggle to put food on the table or heat their homes. Not to diminish their very tangible and real troubles it must be said that each year we have to face challenges collectively as well as individuals. Things happen whether we like it or not; the real challenge is what we do about it and how we react. The aforementioned deranged autocrat must have been surprised by how positively civilised societies responded to his unwarranted aggression. Homes and hearts opened across Europe to shelter those who escaped the war while a stream of humanitarian aid travelled in the opposite direction. It was and still is, the solidarity shown in a palpable way on a huge, societal international scale. We have done it because that is the attitude that propels us in our everyday, small-scale challenges.
I wish you a very Happy New Year in which we can share the joy with others, offer them help when they need it and get support from them when we are in need. “Remember the words of the Lord Jesus: ‘You will have a greater blessing when you give than when you receive.” (Acts 20:35)
Image by Annette Meyer from Pixabay