Reflection: Rebuilding as Visionary Loving
Jah-bi and I enjoy reading books together every night. Over the pandemic, we finished reading three 300-page books by Alan Gratz: Projekt 1065, Allies, Refugee, and now we are reading the last chapter of the book Prisoner B-3087. All of them are about the time when World War 2 was raging, except for Refugee, which features three characters, Josef, a Jewish boy in 1930s Nazi Germany, Isabel, a Cuban girl in 1994 when riots and unrest plagued her country, and Mahmoud, a Syrian boy in 2015. (Show the one minute book trailer of Refugee.)
Alan Gratz’ books are very well researched and describe events, characters, and plots precisely. Every page of each story brings light to a world inflamed or engulfed in war from the perspective of children who lived, fought to survive or escaped. As one review comments, all of his books are an, “Incredibly important, heartrending, edge-of-the-seat read”. Peace told us that he read all of Gratz’ books in Grade 7. (Jah-bi and I have been reading them since last Christmas) They were almost like textbooks for his entire year of English and Social Studies classes. I confess that until I read these books with Jah-bi, my understanding of those times and those lives never truly reached an in-depth understanding, connection and compassion. After reading them, I wished I could re-write all the sermons and reflections I shared on past Remembrance Days. If I could, I would more accurately and truly honour soldiers, survivors and families, all who have gone before us and those who continue on, preserving sacrifice, dignity and justice.
Of course, today is not Remembrance Day. The reason why I open our reflection time by introducing Alan Gratz’ books is because these stories tell us about the ruins. Most stories in these four books end with the year 1945. The readers don’t hear about the lives of the characters after the end of war, unless you read the Author’s Notes. The last sentence of the book in Prisoner B-3087 is “I stepped on board the train and didn’t look back. For nine years I had done everything I could to survive. Now it was time to live.” Alan Gratz’ books focus on remarkable (or terrible) stories and the resilience of people during times of ashes and ruins. They don’t tell the readers about the times of reconstruction later. However, the readers can close the book in peace, knowing the ruins are in the characters’ pasts. Lives have been rebuilt; even after incredible personal losses.
During the Covid-19 pandemic which is still an ongoing story, an unfinished book, I have been thinking that, even if it would be impossible to make any legitimate comparison, the interruptions caused by the pandemic may still be comparable to a war, as a boy in one book recalled, “The life I had before the war was my dream.”. Vaccine as D-Day. Isolation as being a captive. Children’s learning interrupted, daily life shrunk down to safe spaces.
Right before my summer vacation, my energy had run out. I could hardly think of what I would like to do, or could do, to show my care for our Immanuel community. At the end of June, it was getting really hot, and the heat waves were alarming us calling, “I’m coming, and it will be bad!’. Thankfully, mysteriously, like medicine, the summer break recharged my body and refreshed my spirit; I could even feel it on the first day!
The first job I took on was reconnecting with Immanuel family and friends mostly by phone calls. I also began to plan visits. Then, I could see and hear and be close to people. If I can still borrow an analogy to the war, I could see that some of us were casualties. Nearly one and a half years of separation because of the the pandemic was a big and hard and long blow; we have been injured. Some of us have been more affected than others. This year, vaccinations began to roll out, and the population of the fully vaccinated is growing. Canada and the world (where possible) are rebuilding lives again. Now that I am more relaxed and can see that we are in a place of relative safety, the fog before my eyes is slowly beginning to disperse and I can more clearly see our casualties.
There are those who lost touch with others and struggled, mostly alone, from isolation and separation. It didn’t take long for me to intuitively learn that the task I must take on as an important priority in my role with Immanuel is pastoral care. I, we, need to reconnect, rebuild, reconstruct our community, with “Visionary loving.” (I found this phrase “visionary loving” in the prayer resource I used last week, and it has lingered in my mind since. What can visionary loving mean for you? For me, my interpreation of what visionary loving can mean is illustrated in this 7 minute video.)
Our Immanuel Council met last Wednesday and discussed about re-opening. More details and revision from the previous re-opening policy will be shared in announcements later, but one thing we are clearly aiming for is offering a “dual service” each Sunday, starting in October, in which people can choose where to worship, on zoom or in person simultaneously, at 11 am. My hope is that everything we do in the next while is guided by a spirit of compassion, and hopefully, with some vigor of “visionary loving” in God’s grace, we will rebuild our lives together. One at a time, slowly but steadily, we will rebuild, reconnect, reconstruct hope. Perhaps this is an Advent before the calendar Advent. The Sun before our steps, also already in our hands. (Show the picture of “the Sun in our hands”.)
In this light, I would like to share some quotes from the Bible about the Hebrew people’s experience of rebuilding lives, reconnecting to their land and restoring faithful stories, at the very end of the exile of Israel in Babylon (the fourth decade of the 6th century B.C.E.). They were returning to what was left of Jerusalem in the same century. The Babylonian captivity lasted for seventy years. They were going to build up “the ancient ruins” and repair “the ruined cities”. Israel looked forward to rebuilding Jerusalem and Judah. Hope was high. So were the challenges and fears.
Some of these passages are read during Advent. They are perhaps read placidly by those for whom things have been smooth and going well, but less so by those who look around and see only destruction and uncertainty in their lives. All is not well in the world. We need to remember that. Remember the oppressed, the broken-hearted, the forgotten, captives, prisoners, mourners, the faint in spirit. Reconnect, rebuild, reconstruct with those who have long been devastated, generation after generation. The following passages sing “Peace on earth” for those “On whom God’s favour rests”. And “all whom God favours” are often those who may be the most disfavoured of people by human standards. Those among us and beyond us who are on the margins are more affected and interrupted by the contemporary adversaries. Let us join our hearts with the prophets: The city where hopelessness had taken root will, by God’s spirit and by God’s blessing, sprout righteousness and praise.
Isaiah 61:4
Then they will rebuild the ancient ruins,
They will raise up the former devastations;
And they will repair the ruined cities,
The desolations of many generations.
Nehemiah 2:18
I told them how the hand of my God had been favorable to me and also about the king’s words which he had spoken to me. Then they said, “Let us arise and build.” So they put their hands to the good work.
Jeremiah 31:4
“Again I will build you and you will be rebuilt,
O Israel!
Again you will take up your tambourines,
And go forth to the dances of the merrymakers.
Isaiah 9:10
“The bricks have fallen down,
But we will rebuild with smooth stones;
The sycamores have been cut down,
But we will replace them with cedars.”
Jeremiah 1:10
“See, I have appointed you this day over the nations and over the kingdoms,
To pluck up and to break down,
To destroy and to overthrow,
To build and to plant.”
Much has been lost over the past eighteen months: jobs and plans, weddings, funerals, classes and parties, displaced, overthrown, as we were isolated, fighting a war that depended on our sacrifice of togetherness, of community. We have done what is necessary to survive – now it is time to live.
Hymn: VU 23 Joy Shall Come
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