On February 23rd I shall have been your vicar for six years beyond that date will for me mean entering new territory as I have never so far in my ministry stayed in any post for longer than six years (two out of the four posts not counting a curacy – were fixed term six year contracts). Looking back over the last six years at what I have written for the month of February in the magazine, I see that in 2002 I was reflecting on Archbishop Rowan’s essay on 9/11′; in 2003 on Romans 12 and the pending war with Iraq; in 2004 on the London Challenge and the meaning of conversion; in 2005 on the meaning of fasting; in 2006 on Britishness as Radio Four abandoned the UK theme. As well as being the lead in to Lent, February seems to have been a time for pondering political and social crises.
When I worked in the Theological College in Chichester we had a February visit from the Bishop of Arundel and Brighton (now Cardinal Archbishop of Westminster) who endeared himself to the students by referring to this time of year as the tunnel months’. In those days we had not heard of Seasonally Adjusted Disorder (SAD) but that I think is what he meant. The early part of the year is a time when everything can seem rather a burden; the winter has been going on for too long (whatever the variation in climatic conditions); Christmas isn’t really much of a holiday and for those without family it can be a particularly lonely time; the passing of the old year makes us feel our age; failure to keep our new year resolutions sets in quickly; germs and viruses are at their most active and so is envy of those who have had a mid winter holiday in the sun; the news (if there isn’t an international disaster) seems preoccupied with manufactured crises as so-called celebrities say the wrong things on fatuous TV shows, while everyone wonders if Gordon Brown will be at the end of the tunnel and if he is does that mean the tunnel will go on to September?
All these SAD symptoms could be classed under the general heading of accidie a Greek word meaning boredom, sloth or listlessness (the Latin translation is tristitia or sadness). When it was first identified as a technical term in early Christian spirituality accidie was seen as the particular problem of hermits and was known as the noonday demon; nowadays those who work in an office which feels impersonal and often unfriendly will surely know the same kind of thing you don’t have to be on your own to feel isolated. The modern day victims of accidie become restless and unable to concentrate, flitting from one thing to another, distracted by their desires for food or sex, drink or drugs, gossip, shopping or mindless entertainment. They can long for change; they feel unloved and useless; they can become self obsessed and self pitying; they may feel easily aggrieved or angry; they take delight in others failure or wrong doing; they pretend to the world that everything is fine. In an extreme form where all these symptoms go together we might see it as a form of depression. In a milder form where only some of the symptoms are at work we probably need a spiritual director rather than a psychotherapist. The Desert Fathers who first referred to accidie in the 4th century recognised the importance of being able simply to talk to someone without reserve about how you are feeling. They also prescribed staying put, alternating periods of prayer and work, and simple perseverance.
The Revd Sydney Smith, a rather more worldly cleric of the early 19th century advised a rather longer and less austere list of remedies when he wrote in 1820 to Georgiana, Lady Morpeth about how to deal with low spirits. He advises amusing books, short views of human life no further than dinner or tea; seeing as much as you can of friends who respect and like you; ( make no secret of low spirits to your friends, but talk of them freely they are always worse for dignified concealment’- in this the monks would have agreed with him); attending to the effects of tea and coffee; doing good and pleasing people whoever they are; taking walks in the open air (but not fatiguing exercise); making your room gay and pleasant and keeping good blazing fires; struggling little by little against idleness and being as busy as you can; not being too severe on oneself or underrating oneself; avoiding all forms of entertainment likely to excite feeling or emotion not ending in active benevolence’; being firm and constant in the exercise of rational religion. This last seems rather dry and formal but the monks also recommended firmness and constancy and by rational religion Smith means thoughtful, benevolent, practical faith, the kind of faith which enabled Smith to respond to Lady Morpeth’s low spirits with such sensitivity and lightness of touch. Many of his recommendations might be worth taking up for Lent.
With my love and prayers,
Fr Stephen
The Vicar writes
Stephen Tucker