With a nod to Dolly Parton and Bill Murray, it seems like a bit of "deja vu all over again."  Groundhog Day.  For the third time in less than a year, we are transitioning (or to use the current parlance, "pivoting") to in-person face-to-face  worship, still masked and distanced, but looking forward to the physicality of being in the same space.  Abraham Heschel, the famous Jewish essayist, says, "the soul cannot celebrate alone, so the body must be invited to partake in the rejoicing of the Sabbath."

This time, our first steps towards normality will be outside (weather permitting, otherwise inside).  Something less formal and more easily adapted makes sense, and perhaps we can celebrate the joy of creation.

But our joy is tempered by many things.  We must be mindful of the discovery of hundreds of unmarked graves of indigenous First Nations children at the sites of former residential schools.  As a church, we must -- we absolutely must -- repent of our participation in the residential schools system and acknowledge with regret our role, and with our indigenous sisters and brothers be guided towards reconciliation and renewal of our relationship.

We must also be mindful of our differences, especially regarding gender and sexuality.  In many parts of the world, PRIDE is observed in June, with the anniversary of the Stonewall Riots and police action in New York City on the night of June 28, 1969.  In Nova Scotia, our PRIDE month will be observed in August, but it is still important to remember and include our sisters and brothers in their full humanity.

And we must be mindful of our relationship with the civil authorities.  We are, like everyone else, frustrated by constant changes in guidelines, sometimes with very short notice.  There are likely to be both federal and provincial elections this year, and the candidates will be hard-pressed (regardless of party affiliation)  to show how they might have done anything better over the last two years.  The campaigns will probably be ugly and bitter, given the polarization of the last few years, and will pit eastern, central and western interests against each other.  But it won't be the first time (anybody remember 2015?).  So hear we go again.

I listen to BBC Radio 3 through the night; just before 8:00 this morning, programming was suspended to make the official announcement of the death of Prince Philip, followed by the sentiments of those close to the Royal family through their work or association with the Royals, describing his sense of duty, humility, and honour.

I am ambivalent about the Institution of the monarchy, and although I don't really want to live in a republic, I have, from time-to-time, questioned the privilege and elite nature of the royal family.  Nevertheless, the Queen and Prince Philip have always maintained a sense of dignity and duty that, frankly, some of the younger generation seem to lack.  I have seen them several times in my life, and have always felt inspired by what they represent  at the time.  Unfortunately, on reflection, the institution of the monarchy has also represented the worst of colonialism.  Hence my ambivalence.  

His role with the military, and especially the Royal Navy is also part of my sense of connection to the Duke of Edinburgh.  Having served in both the Army and Navy myself, the Royal Family, in every generation, have exemplified this sense of national duty and pride.
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But there is no doubt about what his life meant to the Commonwealth and the rest of the Royal Family.  When his uncle, Lord Louis Mountbatten, was assassinated in 1979, we were reminded that Prince Philip's last name was not, in fact, Windsor, but Mountbatten, and his connections to the history of the British Empire are an important part of the story.   And in my prayers, as we always remember the Queen, the further intention will be for comfort and peace in her soul, for surely the death of a life partner of almost 75 years must leave a huge wound.  

And as the church prays, May he Rest in Peace and Rise in Glory.

​Covid has taught us many things.  We have learned about sacrifice, about doing without some things we have usually taken for granted, without travel, and with many restrictions about how we interact with one another at stores, offices, public transit and church.

We have learned that we can be “separate yet together,” which has become the parlance around groups that are usually defined by meeting in person in the same space, but are now relegated to social media, email, snail-mail and telephone.  Clergy have gotten very creative about how they can offer services on-line, and in many parts of the world, that is all they can do.  In Atlantic Canada, we have been fortunate, in that we have complied with our several departments of health, attended to matters such as physical distancing and mask-wearing, and being subject to building limitations.

This has also prompted a vigorous debate about on-line worship.  I see on-line worship as a concession to the circumstances around us.  I have no intention of pretending it’s the same as being in the same room together, and not being able to offer the sacraments (at least as understood by the church) on a regular basis.  On those weeks where we have been completely shut down, I have posted a Facebook Live feed that includes ringing the bell, a music selection on the organ (usually a hymn of the season), the Sunday readings with a brief meditation, and prayers.  It does not resemble a Sunday congregational service, nor is it that the intention.  When we can’t meet together, then we all need to share the same experience, not watch a select few make us feel badly that we are not amongst the elite.  

So on-line may keep us together while separate, but it is not the same.