In the year 2009 I was taking photos of the churches for the diocesan website; among them the unusually splendid, majestic St Peter’s in Buckie. Its tall spires, distinctively dominating the Buckie skyline, looked invincible. But when I became parish priest here it turned out the towers had been all but mighty and invincible. And when the scaffolding was put up and close examination was done, the distressing scale of damage made by time and the elements was revealed. What looked mighty at first glance turned out to be weakened to a dangerous extent.
Droplets of salty water, specks of sand carried by the wind, tiny crystals of ice formed in unnoticeably small cracks in the stones, an almost immeasurable movement of the walls in the gales – all these singularly insignificant elements have almost brought the mighty stony towers to ruin. If unattended they would turn to a pile of rubble in a matter of years.
Recent scandals, like reported negligence and cover-ups in the NHS down in England and horse meat sold as beef throughout Europe, are appalling by their sheer scale, or unimaginable greed, or almost inhumane ruthless insensitivity – or a mixture of all of these. We can wonder how monstrous the mind-set of those involved must have been to allow them to act so meanly. But I guess most of them weren’t born insensitive monsters. They were like us: pretty normal. Their ruthlessness is a result of moral erosion happening over the years, starting unnoticeably with seemingly insignificant ethical compromise. Day by day, month by month, those singularly insignificant decisions have washed away their decency and worn out human values, uncovering insatiable greed and selfishness.
Actually that story is not about ‘them’ only. It could be the story about us. Everyone faces identically insignificant choices, when we compromise our principles because ‘it doesn’t do any harm’. One compromise after another can significantly erode your and my moral stances. Of course tracing all those tiny irregularities in our choices and behaviour would be insane, bordering on paranoia. But from time to time we need to examine ourselves to find all noticeable damage to our moral fabric. Not to get frustrated or depressed by our imperfection, but to avoid further bigger, irreversible problems. The Church gives us such opportunity now. Take your chance!
Put up the scaffolding of Lent round your life for these forty days, and let the Word of God examine your soul. Let God remove all those crumbled and shattered dreams, those long-kept resentments and grievances, those unfulfilled desires and expectations. Let God’s grace heal your wounds, bring forgiveness and fill you with his peace. When the scaffolding of Lent is finally taken down at Easter you will be strong and mighty, ready to face the battering winds of everyday life.