I just finished watching a video by Dr Naomi Wolf (see at the end of this post) where she reads one of her substack articles: Thanksgiving in A Victim World. It left me reeling and realising just how much we have lost, and wondering what it will take to find ourselves again.

The video/article perfectly encapsulates, for me, what much of the Western world and particularly my city of Melbourne, Australia, has gone through as the world’s longest lockdown city record holder.

At the outset let me say that this is not about wallowing in victimhood, nor is it about being bitter or resentful, but it is about the need for truth.  There can be no healing if there is no repentance for the wrongs committed.  The inability or unwillingness to do so by individuals, communities, and nations can be nothing else but pure arrogance.  There is a deep and delicate process involved with the restoration of hearts, minds, and spirits worldwide – much more than a cursory declaration of “let‘s get back to normal!”.  Without this we cannot “move on” if wrongdoers refuse or are unwilling to see the deep hurts and sufferings which they have inflicted upon others over the last three years.

A decent and loving community is open to listening to others.  It calls them back for reconciliation. It faces hard facts and engages in honest discussion.  It visibly demonstrates how it “walks with the excluded” and is genuine about living the “inclusivity” it incessantly asserts on posters, websites, and in mission statements. 

Healing only occurs when all that is swept under the carpet, or the proverbial elephant in the room, is uncovered and allowed to stand brilliantly in a bright spotlight in all its truth.  Truth is what a mature, stable, democratic, intelligent, and functioning society pursues.  Avoiding this over time risks descending into more chaos and darkness.

Can we call our communities and nations virtuous, moral, and decent?  Are we any of those things anymore?  Have individuals lost the ability to feel regret or remorse at a deeply personal level, and then be humble enough to say sorry?  Are we too scared – or distracted or dull-minded – to travel to deeper places within ourselves for fear of confronting the reality of who we really are and what we have become?

A few weeks out from Christmas I find the sentiments Dr Wolf presents in her Thanksgiving Day reflection can be extended to this entire festive season.

At Christmas one often feels an obligation to be “merry and bright” with all things joyfully covered in tinsel and snow (if you live in the northern hemisphere) or endless hot summer days at the beach and barbeques (if you live in the southern hemisphere).  It’s what we are “supposed to do”, supposedly. We can sense this happiness if our focus remains on Christ, but even then it is quite hard for many people this year.

I used to love Christmas.  By now I would be busily preparing to sing throughout the Advent season, sorting out sheet music, rehearsing, all leading up to the beautiful Christmas carols, psalms, and so on at Midnight Mass and Christmas morning Mass.  For over twenty years I did this as a volunteer in my church choir and as one of the lead cantors, not only at Easter and Christmas, but at every Sunday Mass without fail, week in and week out come rain, hail, or shine.  I was rarely absent or ill.  However this year, once again, for the second time in a row since 2021 it is no more. 

A comment was made to me by someone on social media recently – are you still vax mandated out or did you just decide not to go back?  I was initially exasperated by the person’s statement because it seemed to imply that I was somehow at fault.  This comment made me feel that perhaps it was I who was holding a grudge, unwilling to forgive, was bitter, resentful, or that I was to blame for still being on the outside.  This person – also a choir singer somewhere in the world it seems – explained that fellow musicians (or whomever had done the excluding) had implored him/her to come back  because they realised they had done this out of fear and they had apologised. 

And therein lies the difference.  They had apologised.  They had come to the realisation that they were wrong to have rejected that person. As a Catholic I know that forgiveness is crucial – “as we forgive those who trespass against us”.  Jesus forgave us while we were sinners (and still does every day) but we must be truly sorry for our wickedness, otherwise it makes a mockery of the absolution we receive in the Sacrament of Confession.

There has been no public apology by those leaders, managers, clergy, etc. who complied with the evil edict of excluding others.  There has not even been the slightest acknowledgement or remorse about the discrimination committed against a group of people who – simply because of their private medical decision – were deemed to be unfit to participate in the community, let alone in the church which is supposed to welcome all.  We are “inclusive”, except when we are not, it seems.  There has been no mea culpa unless one luckily happens to surreptitiously receive one personally.  While many publicly stated mandates have now been dropped, many places still privately retain them.  Lessons have not been learnt.

Do we return to those who rejected us if they are not sorry?  Do victims of ill-treatment apologise to their perpetrators?  Shouldn’t it be the other way around?  Would you go back to a place that made you feel like a soiled rag?

People were rejected by their social groups, families, friends, places of worship, or other organisations because they dared to say “No”.  “No, I will not put an experimental product into my body.  No, I will not reveal my medical status in order to be able to return to church to volunteer, work, or whatever it was that I was doing before the mandates were thrust upon us.  No, I’ve had Covid so I am already immune.  No, I will not take an abortion-tainted medical procedure.”  Not even a “not yet” was acceptable for those who wanted to wait and see what the longer-term effects would be. 

So people were shown the door – or in many cases just quietly slipped away from public view, never to be seen again.  Vanished choir members.  Vanished colleagues.  Vanished friends and family.  Abducted by aliens, perhaps? They were punished because they had a mind of their own.  They were made less-than because they had the audacity to do their own research, found concerning data, wanted to wait, experienced an injury or the loss of a relative or friend, or heeded the warnings of a now-censored doctor who was sounding the alarm. 

These people then became sub-human, and a label attached to their existence: “anti-vaxxers”, “conspiracy theorists”, “cookers”, and so on, because they had the gumption to use their brains, think critically, and ask questions.  People were “othered” because they dared to consult their consciences and knew that something didn’t seem right. 

This is not to say that those who felt coerced to comply do not have a brain, as they were put in an incredibly grim position – take this or forgo your income and survival.  For people with children, debts to pay, or a mortgage, they felt they had no choice.  But what if we all had each other’s back and had said “No” from the beginning?  How different could things have been?  What if our religious communities and parishes had stood by us all and said “No” instead of buckling?

In her video, Dr Wolf compares the vibrant people she encountered on her trip to Florida to people living in parts of the United States which were locked down and mandated.  Floridians, she explains – especially children – were vivacious, chatty, and enjoying life as if nothing had happened because for them, very little or nothing had actually changed.  It is a fascinating comparison I can identify with.  Many people in Melbourne are suffering from PTSD, whether we acknowledge it or not, compared to other less restricted parts of Australia.  A friend who escaped to another state sounds more upbeat while I remain in a funk.  Visits to my state, she says, feel heavy and depressing.  Despite broadcasters cheerily brainstorming ways to attract people back to my city, the place is nothing like it was.  All that glitters is not gold, as the saying goes, and no matter how many Broadway shows or footy matches are held, the city’s atmosphere remains catatonic, frozen, and just plain sad.

Places hold memories.  Buildings and spaces seem to have a vibe or spiritual imprint upon them.  I felt this in my church as I used to sing and think of the souls who worshipped there for many decades.  You can tell if a place was happy in bygone years – it either still holds an uplifting spark or you feel tension when you walk in (or at least I can).  Melbourne, and many other places like it which were subject to draconian measures, will never be the same again.  It used to be warm, welcoming, filled with people, crowded public transport, cultured, diverse, colourful, and exciting to work in or visit.  While entertainment, shoppers, and a semblance of positive activity have returned, it is in fact a pitiful empty vessel.  I know my city well.  Her spirit and energy has been extinguished.

Can there be restoration? 

Perhaps, if there is public and private repentance, apologies (not excuses or calls for amnesty), and if those who complied with this evil leave their positions.  They cannot be trusted again.  New people, new systems, and new hearts can be the only way forward.  I know there will be a permanent scar for me; I am not the same person I was three years ago.

I was enjoying my life, my church, my work, and my singing, but now my trust in people, the medical profession, and institutions has evaporated.  I do not see humanity the same way again.  My faith in Christ is intact, but I no longer view the Church and her members – who are supposed to be a united body – as a community that embraces the leper or the broken.  They do not heed the Gospel.  They have left the sheep – even their own faithful parishioners – to wander alone.  I, with so many others, was left high and dry when we needed them the most.  We faced stony faces, cold hearts, deafening silence, locked doors, segregation, and finally the blow of ostracisation.  Any restoration will require facing this truth, no matter how hard it is to hear and for me to write.

I know Our Lady’s Immaculate Heart will triumph in the end.  I know the Church – a cleansed and renewed Church – will rise again in glory as the spotless Bride of Christ just like the resurrection event.  But until then it must go through persecution, pain, and defeat.  There is no other way but the Cross.  It has already started and many of us are feeling it. 

My Christmas will be silently and quietly spent with family.  It pains me to say that my church and the Church in general have completely abandoned me and many other Catholics who served it not for money or fame, but out of love and fidelity. 

My church life was my life. I gladly sang within her walls.

I pray to God daily for justice, especially for many others who are worse off and are injured physically, mentally, and spiritually.  I pray for those who are dejected, suicidal, mourning the loss of loved ones, or are struggling in so many other profound ways – yes, still – three years on.  This article is for you.

Many of us here on the outside are waiting.  All is not calm, and all is not bright.  We cannot unsee what we have seen.  We cannot forget the stories of those who have died and will be missing from the Christmas lunch table –  including people I personally know who are now gone.

I pray God’s mighty justice will come soon because we deserve better, and those who did this to humanity deserve nothing less than eternal darkness for their crimes.

Come and save us, Lord Jesus Christ. 

Image Credit: pixabay.com