Due to the shelter in place restrictions, I am unable to gather at church during Holy Week. So, I worship in the woods around my home with the timbered choir of trees and the chorus in the branches above. Surrounded by birdsong, I think of poet Emily Dickinson’s lines:
“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
that perches on the soul –
and sings the tune without the words –
and never stops – at all –
It is a lovely thought to personify hope as a songbird. Yet Dickinson wrote this poem in 1862 when it became clear that the Civil War was not ending anytime soon and that many more people were going to suffer and die. Hope is needed in such tragic times. Dickinson’s songbird is no mere flight of fancy. The poem continues:
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard
and sore must be the storm –
that could abash the Little Bird –
that kept so many warm –
The COVID-19 pandemic is not a war. It is an unseen virus, not a military foe. Yet the death tolls are rising. The projections are grim. As in Dickinson’s time, we know that things will get worse before they get better. How can we sing a song of hope?
The Easter story flies from the celebration of Palm Sunday to the tragedy of Good Friday. Christians have long walked the Via Dolorosa — the way of suffering and sorrow — to the cross. We believe it gets worse before it gets better.
But this year, instead of the metaphor of walking through the valley of the shadow of death, I’m thinking we need to imagine ourselves as a seabird called a whimbrel that can fly through a hurricane!
People of faith have endured storms before. By the time of Jesus, the people of Israel had suffered under the hurricane of war for almost 600 years. First, the Babylonians, then the Persians, then the Greeks and finally the Romans. Certain regimes were better than others, but the bottom line was that Israel suffered under foreign rule. And so, the prophets envisioned a coming Messiah who would establish a new kingdom on earth. They found strength for the present in their hope for what was to come.
On the one hand, Americans cannot relate such brutal occupations. We live in a democracy, a society that enjoys freedoms the ancient world could not have even imagined.
But we do know uncertainty about the future. COVID-19 has stripped away any illusion that we are in control. For all of our technological innovation and medical prowess, we realize that we are at the mercy of forces beyond our powers.
Therefore, we must be courageous. I think the bravest thing we can do today is sing of fierce hope as we endure this pandemic. Wherever you are, be like that songbird flying into the hurricane. Sing into the storm! Trust that there will be clearer skies and brighter days ahead. Have faith that, one day, we will flock together again in large groups to sing hymns of gratitude. And what a morning that we will be!
Andrew Taylor-Troutman is the pastor of Chapel in the Pines Presbyterian Church and author of “Gently Between the Words: Essays and Poems.” He is currently working from home with his wife and three children.