Our valley experiences

By Fr Donald Chambers

“Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death” (Psalm 23: 4)

As I listen to countless COVID-19 pandemic lockdown narratives, I am convinced that the scriptural metaphor of “the valley of the shadow of death” appropriately describes the happenings in our families.
In contrast to the geography of a plain, a valley is a narrow treacherous and rugged pathway locked on either side between rugged hills or mountains.
With turbulent weather and limited sunlight, animals and people rub shoulders as they traverse on their sojourn. Acquainted with the life of nomadic shepherds that herd large flocks of sheep through valleys, the writer of Psalm 23 found this metaphor suitable to describe Israel’s history of salvation.

During the COVID-19 lockdowns, many families encountered this “valley of the shadow of death” experience. At the start of the lockdown, family members who passed each other like ships in the night, suddenly discovered that they were living with ‘strangers’ in the same house.
Additional stress was generated as a result of the inability of family members to repatriate, attend funerals or wedding services, and celebrate graduations. Children encountered the stress of examination delays. Parents faced job losses, business downsizing, and recreating the home space to become both work and school space.
These restrictions generated tension, conflicts, quarrels, and feelings of frustration, anxiety, loneliness, anger, and grief. Desperate to cope, many family members resorted to an increase in alcoholic intake and pornographic indulgence. Others experienced mental fatigue, depression, domestic violence, suicidal thoughts, and deviant social behaviour.

The writer of Psalm 23 describes these moments of restrictions by saying, “though I walk through. . .” Walking through implies that the “valley of the shadow of death” experience is a phase of the journey.
The Jewish writer and author, Harold Kushner, captures this phase well when he says that “Human beings are not fashioned to live in darkness. Even as our eyes require light, even as our bodies require sunshine, our souls need companionship, laughter, a sense of purpose. . . God’s role is not to protect us from pain and loss, but to protect us from letting pain and loss define our lives.”  Through creative and innovative means, the Church attempted to offer pastoral care to the clergy and laity to assist them as they walk through and navigate the challenges of this phase of our salvation history.

In a valley, the limited sunlight casts shadows. A shadow is not the absence of sunlight, but the result of the blockage of sunlight. The pandemic restrictions blocked the sunlight of free movement, community gathering, and physical touch which human beings rely on to refill emotional buckets and build relationships.
It is crucial, however, not to lose sight of the verb ‘walk’ to describe this phase and its value. We have the witness of several families who have struggled and suffered while walking through valley experiences as they faced drug abuse and mental issues, rejection by the family, being financially ostracised by parents and failed spousal relationships.
Yet, their courage enabled them to identify with the words of American-Canadian actress Mary Pickford who says, “You may have a fresh start any moment you choose, for this thing that we call ‘failure’ is not the falling down, but the staying down.” Their miracle is that they have refused to stay down.

Scripture commentators translate verse four of Psalm 23 as “valley of deep darkness” and not “shadow of death” (tzalamut). In light of this, Kushner argues that the writer’s intention is to convey that it is our awareness that one day we will die that casts a shadow over our lives.
The restrictions of the pandemic have enabled us to come face to face with the reality of our own mortality, frailty, and vulnerability. The devastating consequences of this microbe globally, that brought many seemingly invincible nations and leaders to their knees, has unearthed our fear of dying.
We, however, have an opportunity to translate this fear into understanding and solidarity, especially with many families who live with fear daily. They traverse their own valley of deep darkness as refugees fleeing war, famine, political intimidation, social conflicts. Others live with the fear generated by sexual, religious or gender discrimination in their own families.

As it relates to our own walk through the “valley of deep darkness” of the pandemic, we may be arriving at the green pastures. While some families negotiated the valley experience reasonably well, others have been emotionally wounded.
The Church must now embark on a time of healing. With compassion and mercy, families who have successfully negotiated the valley experience must now utilise the emotional and spiritual food of the green pastures, not simply for their own self-satisfaction, but for the wounded families.
Becoming a field hospital of mercy (Pope Francis), the Church must offer professional counselling, prayer and healing services, a safe and separate space for men, women, and children to reflect on the valley experience, social activities to facilitate the healing of relationships, home visitation, and inter-religious, ecumenical family rituals and services.
As Pope Francis implores us, “. . . in order to rebuild our wounded world . . . our only course is to imitate the Good Samaritan” (Fratelli Tutti).

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Fr Donald Chambers of the Archdiocese of Kingston, Jamaica is the General Secretary of the Antilles Episcopal Conference.