Mark Harris is an Episcopal priest living in Lewes. An artist/printmaker and poet, he writes on social and religious issues and is a social and political activist.
Somehow, we have all gotten through 2022. Various new “normalities” have taken hold and most of us are settling in.
The pandemic has become normalized, even if vaccination has not. Somehow, we got through a year of spiking gas prices, heightened inflation, and shaky stocks. We got through an election cycle where there was some sense that democratic institutions were a bit battered. The war in Ukraine has not yet spread, but the dread of war is there, always lurking in the background.
It has not been much of a year of promise. Rather it has been a year of caution and perseverance.
It feels like we have all been skating on thin ice.
Skating on thin ice is something I have experienced. While never much of a skater, I did love ice skating when younger. Now, of course, I wouldn’t think of it. The bones and body would not take too kindly to the occasional fall. But I loved the moments of grace and glide, of delight in motion.
I also remember the cautionary reminder that came with the delight: Don’t get so carried away with zipping around that you fail to notice where the thin ice is. Sometimes it is not enough to be young in body, heart and mind. The plunge into freezing water as the thin ice cracks under our weight happens to the fit and unfit alike. So skating, even when it seems to be done without a care in the world, is best done with full awareness of the conditions of the moment.
Thinking about the year to come, I believe a similar sense of caution is in order. We need to take care about skating on thin ice.
The cautions of the past year are still here. Viruses haven’t disappeared, hospitalizations and deaths continue. The war in Ukraine continues at a tipping point between being a local and a global event. Economics will continue to be volatile, with continued effects of war, climate change, oil availability and inflation all impacting our lives. Democratic republics will work, but only if we skate away from the thin ice of considering every critic as the enemy or seeing compromise as weakness.
But we need also to continue skating, to continue wanting to get out there and engage the world. Being cautious does not mean we should become immobilized. Being cautious is not the same as being afraid. There is plenty of thick ice for us to skate on.
What we need in these days is a mix of caution and hope, the sense that we can preserve, that we can keep on keeping on. And to do that we must watch for the thin ice, even as we continue skating. The combination of caution for safety and action for hope, at its best, is what bravery is. The angels say, “Fear not.” They do not say, “Ignore the danger signs.”
I’m looking forward to this year, and I hope you are too. I think we have learned a lot this past year about how to cope with these times. May it be a year in which we continue to know the signs of thin ice, in which we continue to skate with sufficient joy and delight to make the venture worth the risk, and with sufficient caution as to not be overcome by adversity.
On a very practical level do what you can to live both fully and wisely. Do not be afraid of thin ice. Just don’t skate on it.
Happy New Year.
