Lock-Down and Mental Health Treatment

People with significant mental health issues are having their health sacrificed to the welfare of a different group of people, and they are unlikely to be given the help they need when the emergency is over.

Ultimately, with the exception of a few details relating to my Christian world view, I refuse to judge whether or not the UK government has been right to place its population under virtual house arrest (it is only legal to leave your home for a few very specific purposes like buying food) in response to Corvid-19.  I am glad I am not having to make the decisions.

However, as someone with long term depression and traumatic disorder problems, it cannot be avoided that I am being made seriously ill by the consequences to me of the restrictions.  And while this is slightly qualified by the fact that those of us for whom this is the case are still vulnerable to the collapse of infrastructure, as someone who is at very little risk from the disease itself, I am being made significantly ill by policies enacted primarily for the sake of the health and well-being of a different group of vulnerable people.

People often seem to underestimate depression – or rather, I think they confuse the minor forms with the severe, and assume that all depression is a matter of a bit of low mood which could do with a little bit of counselling and self-help.  It is quite right those things should be provided, but on the other hand, the fact that some people only need a bit of cream for their skin rash does not mean that all skin cancer is dismissed as a minor illness for which only minor measures are needed!

Given my tendencies, I have reached a point where I am desperately trying to process my emotions enough for the situation not to result in further traumatic disorder, but to keep them calm enough that the depression does not put me in hospital.  Though I’ve been out walking every day, I am concerned that I’m starting to develop a real (and potentially persistent) fear of going out, and I’m really struggling with my self-care, to the point that social services is having to step in to assist.  I am too fragile to communicate with people much, and this is particularly frustrating as it cuts me off from a lot of online things that would be helpful if I was well enough to access them.  And though I am doing my best, and hoping it may be possible to find ways of coping, the chances are that my health is only going to get worse the longer the restrictions continue.

The fact that it is like this for me may be a result of idiosyncrasies in brain structure that result from hypermobility disorder, though I am not sure how well established that suggestion is.  In any case, it is an illness like any other, not a matter of wilful weakness or simple ineptitude.  It can be responded to badly – in much the same way as a diabetic can choose to try to be careful with food or not – but it isn’t a choice or a failure merely to suffer from it.

At the present moment, I have excellent medical care (without which I would be much worse) in managing the immediate symptoms, from my GP, to whom I am extremely grateful.

However, there is a reasonable likelihood that I will develop long term problems – problems that do not ease with the easing of pressure – damage that will go on crippling and harming my life indefinitely, and this is not the province of a GP.  Even if I personally don’t develop long term issues, it is a reasonable assumption that there will be people who do.

What has been done has been done in an emergency situation, and as I say, I refuse to judge whether they are right or wrong to do it.  But the fact remains that there is a population of people whose health and wellbeing are being sacrificed primarily for the sake of the health and wellbeing of a different group of people.

When the emergency is over, will those who find that long-term damage has been done to their mental health by the precautions, receive prompt, automatic, adequate, expert care?  Or will there be no resources for them?  When they have suffered horribly in order that the health service may care for others with what is perceived to be a more urgent need, will they find, when that urgent need lessens, that they are the priority and that they will, without having to fight for it, receive the same care?  Will the health service then set up “field” mental health units and take on more staff to deal with the illnesses of trauma and depression and any others caused by what has been done by the government to deal with corvid-19?

From my previous experience, it is reasonable to project that the answer will be “no”.  We will probably be left to our ongoing suffering, perhaps with a little bit of very limited, non-expert counselling, and such as our GPs can do with medication.  Having been made ill by the precautions taken for others, we are likely to be abandoned to suffer from that illness.

Seriously, whatever else is right or wrong here, not regarding the serious mental health illnesses caused by precautions against the coronavirus as being due the same weight of medical assistance, is not right.

Cherry Foster


The Answer

A poem for the Annunciation


Time awaits with bated breath

What eternity hath known.

Nature quakes, and struck is death

Where the Angel’s word is flown.

Earth knows not, may not regard,

Only she who is addressed

By the message strange and hard,

By all generations blest.

Only she is witness here

Troubled with a change of life,

Troubled with a bitter fear,

Set in midst of deadly strife.

She who sees the Angel now;

She the living babe will view,

See the nations to Him bow,

Ponder all things old and new.

She will hear her son command

Death and sickness, hell and sea,

Hear the crowd His life demand,

And his tortured corpse shall see.

She shall know His risen face,

Be the Spirit on her poured,

Enter into heavenly grace,

Be for ever with her Lord.

“Yes” is spoke!  Nor turning back,

What she knows, and what’s unknown,

Glory, puzzlement and lack,

Cast alike before God’s throne.


Cherry Foster

Epidemic, the Sacraments, and the Resurrection

Where do our priorities as Christians coincide with those of the world in an epidemic, and where should they differ? 

Resurrection_(24) Photo credit Surgun source Wikamedia Commons no copyright
Christ rescuing Adam and Eve (representing all humanity) from Hell. Photo credit: Surgun; source: Wikimedia Commons

In the middle of a serious epidemic, it might be appropriate that Communion should be received by an intincted Host being placed reverently in the recipients’ hand, at mutual arm’s length, through an only just sufficiently open window, with both recipient and minister wearing masks, and the recipient only removing theirs to consume the Body and Blood of Christ after the window has been carefully pushed shut.  Or whatever precautions best fit the disease in question.

However, that is very different from it not being possible to receive at all, other than because it is literally impossible.

In a time of contagious illness, we are in the middle of one of the more bizarre paradoxes of Christianity: that of our immense value for earthly life, which ultimately, nevertheless takes second place to the Divine Life in a case of head on conflict.  This creates a massive puzzle when it comes to the handling of an epidemic* of a sort to require serious precautions.

On the one hand, we should be taking every precaution to protect the sick and vulnerable, made in the image of God and designed, within God’s plan, for eternal glory.  Earthly life is made more precious, not less, by the life to come: partly because it is ultimately the resurrection of the body in which we believe, and partly because the created and redeemed human person is infinitely precious.  Earthly life is a gift of God too.  It is Gnosticism that makes earthly life evil and the spiritual good, not Christianity, in which this world is God’s good but fallen creation, which he is in the process of redeeming.

On the other hand, death is fundamentally unescapable.  We will stand before the judgement seat of our Redeemer, one way or another.  The Divine Life, that does not notice death, is normally received through prayer, worship and the Sacraments, and the transformation of being and action that sincere engagement with these things creates.  And the Divine Life is a more fundamental life than the temporary life of the earth.  Though it is impossible to say very much about the practical nature of these things (data deficient) salvation is something that grows in us through this life, as we become more truly restored in the image of God.

Therefore, care for earthly life should be extremely fundamental, but care for the Divine Life even more so.  The secular world may, according to its principles, treat Christian practice as if it was an emotional indulgence of the same sort as going down to the pub.  We cannot.  The normal means of the inbreaking of the Divine Life into human life is not something that can be completely yielded to pressure of any sort, even the threat of mortality, artificial or natural.  Indeed, it is in the face of mortality that we most need God, and it is in the face of death that the commission to reach out to the suffering world with the knowledge of God becomes most urgent.

I would suggest this creates a situation where we should mostly be trying to find ways of co-operating with epidemic precautions, legal and to a lesser extent advised, but should never give up on trying to find ways of working with them which make sure worship and the Sacraments are still accessible to people**.  And at the last, I think any restriction should be disobeyed, if accepting it means accepting a secular view of life and death, with its trivialisation of Christian worship.  However, I don’t think we should ever hold doing so lightly, or do this when there is any option which allows us to honour both commitments.  As far as I can see, much excellent work is currently being done in putting worship online.  But the weight our branch of the Church places on the Sacraments does not really allow us to stop there.  What is or isn’t being done about this, I am not at all clear, and I would like (again) to thank all the clergy for their efforts to keep on supporting people, but I admit to being rather uncomfortable with the way in which I’ve heard it talked about, without mention of the Christian understanding of life and death, or an apparent consciousness that this understanding might cause us to think differently from our culture about what we should do***.

I think, for instance, that I’d suggest the Church should be the last to stop gathering (whether that was the case this time, I have no idea: where I am it all happened so quickly).  Also, if the nature of gathering can be altered effectively, it would be logical to do so – gathering for services outdoors, for instance, at a careful distance, is something I have heard has been done in plague conditions in the past.  After which, I suppose, it is necessary to resort to non-public reception of some kind, such as cautious home Communion, with careful observation of the same precautions that would be used by visiting carers.

Indeed, though it would not be the sort of thing appropriately resorted to under any but the most extreme circumstances, I do remember hearing it said that the Easter Eucharist was distributed in a Russian labour camp of the Communist era, by concealing fragments of the Consecrated Bread in the boxes of cigarettes handed out to each prisoner.  That sort of thing raises the interesting question of which of the normal church rules of handling and reverence it is appropriate to suspend in any particular extreme circumstance.  But, as I would argue that any reverent reception of the Precious Blood is preferable to refusing to allow people to receive it at all, I similarly think any devout reception, even if the normal manner of reverence is impossible, is preferable to not allowing people to receive at all.  Having said, I do not think the issue a simple one.  Such a thing could certainly not be done without great caution, or indeed, without a reasonable amount of knowledge on the part of the recipients as to how to handle the Sacrament.

Ultimately, I think the point I am trying to make is that though our priorities rightly coincide with those of the secular world up to a point, it is necessary to refuse their priorities when it comes to the importance of supporting people in the Divine Life.  And following from that, it is worth in such circumstances talking about Resurrection, worth challenging the view that the best we can hope for is that science will ultimately defeat the illness (an expectation for which I have great gratitude, but which I do not think to be the end of the story).  Death is an enemy that has been far more utterly defeated than that, by the death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ.

The Lenten call to repentance is not a call to despair but to hope.  It is a call to remember that we are ultimately created for a Life that no grief can touch or disease destroy.

I know that my Redeemer liveth, and though worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God.

Cherry Foster


*I remain puzzled as to what causes the problem, given that coronavirus seems to have an incredibly low death rate as these things go, but I accept – despite initial scepticism – that there is a real problem now if people are ordering lockdown.  That isn’t a step most governments would undertake lightly.

**Possibility is different from what individuals choose to do.  It may be conscientious decision on the part of some Christians to stay away in time of sickness, or not to look to receive Communion in a time when it is difficult to gather or be in contact with others.  God works differently with everyone, and some people may be quite happily supported in their faith short term by other things.  But that is completely different from others saying to them “due to the risk we will not do this”.  That is not much different (perhaps slightly worse, by the logic I’m suggesting we should be using) from refusing to care for the sick on the grounds of the risk.

***Given what people are doing, this may well be because they are taking the modifiers for granted: as I didn’t grow up with a Christian world view, I don’t.  If what people say sounds purely secular, that is what I hear :-S


I am sure there is much more protest to come on my part regarding the decisions the Church has made over the coronavirus epidemic, and the reasoning behind them: it is a necessary part of this sort of thing that we should think about whether we have our priorities right, or whether we are giving way wrongfully to a secular understanding of life and death (or to some other distortion).

However, at this moment, I would like to express my immense gratitude to the clergy on the ground, who, officially forbidden to hold services, are putting so much effort into not allowing us to perish for want of any sort of spiritual support.

Thank-you.  Thank-you very much.

Cherry Foster

Valley of Shadow

Again, I should say that I do appreciate that the clergy are making what they honestly believe to be the best decision in difficult circumstances, in withdrawing the Precious Blood of Christ from the congregations.  What I say about this is not a criticism of anyone’s goodwill, but an attempt to present a fuller perspective on the issue than I think is being considered, and to help myself (and hopefully others) to cope emotionally and spiritually with what is happening.


Temptation’s bitter vale – strange place of hopelessness –

O Shepherd of the sheep, where art Thy staff and rod?

The nourishment Thou gavest for Life fades from us away,

We are fed on lifeless theory and not the Living God.


O Vine of Life! How can we not learn to loathe Thee,

When pierced through and through by Thee with such a bitter knife?

How not turn, despairing, from Thy faith unto the world

When Thy stewards treat Thee but as a risk to earthly life?


O Christ our God!  How didst Thou hold Thy faith

In the hour of Thine agony upon the dreadful Tree?

O remember Thou our weakness; come Thou swiftly to sustain us,

Ere we place our trust in that which is not Thee.


O, move the hearts which are now stone to us

To have pity on Thy Life as on the human birth.

Free Thou our hearts from this cage of stifling reason,

Raise Thou the eyes that see not beyond the earth.


O Lord, aid Thou the fire Thyself hast lit,

O see, it sinks and dies for want of nourishment!

And bear us in Thine arms, who perish from Thy loss;

Preserve in us the Life that Thou hast lent.


Cherry Foster


Edit 21st March 2020: This was originally published with the first verse reading as below, but I was unhappy with the quality, and hope I have managed to improve it slightly.  I am aware of other technical issues in this one: I suspect I may end up rewriting it eventually as more than one poem.

My heart goes out to all those who now find themselves completely without the Sacraments due to the prohibitions on holding services.  The secular world is probably acting conscientiously to its own values in forbidding it, but I do not think we are in obeying, unless we do so in the context of making adequate alternative provisions (I am very grateful for people’s efforts on that point).  Death is unavoidable.  If the Sacraments are the primary means by which we enter into the Divine Life that does not notice death, the last thing it makes sense to do is to expect people to face their earthly mortality without them.


Valley of temptation; grim place of hopelessness,

O Shepherd of Thy sheep, where art Thy staff and rod?

The nourishment of Life Thou gavest is fading fast away,

For our food is dead theology and not the Living God.

Whither hast Thou gone?

On the withdrawal of the Precious Blood from the reception of the Sacrament

Welsh Manuscript Crucifixion, Wikimedia commons, no copyright
The Crucifixion of Jesus, from a Welsh manuscript. Photo source: Wikimedia Commons


Whither is my Beloved gone?  Where hast Thou hid Thyself?

With outstretched hands and broken heart I plead;

For where I seek Thy love I find but piercing thorns,

Why deny the fruit where Thou hast sown the seed?


O Thou who wast with a kiss betrayed, how canst Thou bear

To thus betray Thy people whom Thou hast kissed to life?

How canst Thou change Thy gifts to suffering?

And pierce our hearts as with a traitor’s knife?


O Thou who pourest out Thy Blood in priceless love,

How shall we keep Thy faith without Thy sign?

How can we live by half thy precious gift,

Or in prayer but half-engaged approach Thy shrine?


Why does thou change Thy outpoured love and joy

For stark mechanical rite of no responsive sense?

Why didst Thou give us such a precious thing?

To make it a destruction and offence?


O Precious Vine!  O Love beyond all loss,

May our sufferings witness to the value of Thy Gift.

Who forsaken died, and whom we know did rise,

And with whom we shall reign in endless bliss.


Cherry Foster



N.B.  To avoid any implication of theological error, I do believe Communion valid in one kind.  But when someone has died to give you a gift, as Christ died to give us His Precious Blood, the necessity or otherwise of that gift has no bearing on the value of it.

The car crash-coronavirus analogy again – and the reception of the Precious Blood

The withdrawal of the Precious Blood from Anglican congregations due to coronavirus seems to lack consistency when it comes to the way we handle different types of risks.

At time of writing, the death count among those positive for coronavirus in the UK is published as 21*.  And without a miracle, it is clear that the number of deaths is going to rise, though hopefully we will come out of this and find fewer people have actually died of it than of the seasonal flu.  (This doesn’t mean I’m not aware this particular epidemic presents some peculiar challenges not involved in the case of the flu).  Taking sensible precautions against infection has a role in helping the death count to stay low.

The hope that the numbers will be statistically low does not mean those deaths do not matter.  I am sorry for people’s loss, and I will be praying for those who have died of it and for all others who have died in the last few weeks (of whatever cause), that they may rest in peace and rise in glory.

However.  1,784 people died on the roads in 2018, and those deaths are not less important.

When driving a car, you don’t drink too much alcohol, you fasten your seatbelt, and you refrain from using a hand-held mobile phone.  At least, I hope people do and don’t.

Do people say: “is my journey absolutely necessary?” or “It is incredibly selfish for anyone to make a car journey because it might put others at risk.”

No.  We take sensible safety precautions and we don’t hesitate to make the most trivial of journeys.

But when it comes to the Precious Blood of Christ, who resigned His equality with God to be born Incarnate, to live, suffer horribly, and die, in order to give us that most precious and unbelievable gift and the life and love that is received through It, do we take sensible precautions – make perhaps a few careful changes to exactly what we are doing – and carry on receiving?

No.  We say: “it isn’t necessary for validity.”  “It’s selfish to ask to go on receiving because it might put others at risk.”  We treat Him as if receiving Him in the completeness of His gift was an emotional indulgence – was more of an emotional indulgence than a car journey for a Saturday afternoon trip to a tea-room.

How can we respond like that if we believe what we say?

Cherry Foster



N.B.  I would ask anyone responsible for the policy or for implementing it to appreciate that this is a cry of perplexity and anguish, and an appeal to rethink the importance of what is being denied – to Him, as well as to us – it is not an accusation of deliberate hypocrisy.  I come out as INFJ on Myers-Briggs: I genuinely tend to be both coldly technical and passionately emotional at the same time.

*Lest I spread alarm and despondency: this is as yet a tiny fraction (0.018) of those known to have it in the UK, and as they are testing the more serious cases (i.e. the people more likely to die), the number of people in the UK who have got it who have actually died is almost certainly comparatively tiny.  Not that deaths don’t matter.  Just that it is not a cause for panic.

A Coronavirus Statistic in Proportion


Car Crash, source wikimedia commons, copyright to attribution
Photo source: Wikimedia Commons

Yesterday I went to a hospital appointment on the bus.  With hand sanitiser in my pocket and trying to sit where I was less likely to be coughed over.

I took the same level of precaution when travelling a couple of days after Christmas.  While I’m not medically a person with high risk, the fatigue side of my disability tends to mean minor infections incapacitate me in an annoying way.  And the mental consequences of quarantine are not necessarily minor.

I picked up an abandoned newspaper, which was – among other means of spreading alarm and despondency – trying to make a thing of the fact that more than 1000 people had died of coronavirus in Italy.

I am sorry to hear that – it isn’t good, and I’d rather people didn’t die and others didn’t have to mourn their loss.

However, the average number of excess winter deaths per day in the UK (five year average ending 2017, which was the most recent I could find) was more than a 1000 (3).

The highest number of influenza deaths in a single week in the UK (5) in the year 2017 to 2018 was 14,010 (3), i.e. about 14 times a thousand.  (The influenza that year had an unusually high mortality, however).

And 1,784 people were killed on the roads in the UK in the year 2018 (4), with 26,610 killed or seriously injured.

Coronavirus?  Fasten your seatbelt.  Take sensible, evidence-based precautions.

But don’t panic.  There is no reason to expect a zombie apocalypse.

Cherry Foster


  1. Retrieved from the Wikipedia article as I know no Italian.  The reference given is^ “La popolazione legale del 15° Censimento della popolazione”. http://www.istat.it (in Italian). 19 December 2012. Retrieved 18 September 2019.
  2. https://www.ons.gov.uk/peoplepopulationandcommunity/populationandmigration/populationestimates/bulletins/2011censuspopulationestimatesfortheunitedkingdom/2012-12-17
  3. https://www.ons.gov.uk/peoplepopulationandcommunity/birthsdeathsandmarriages/deaths/bulletins/excesswintermortalityinenglandandwales/2017to2018provisionaland2016to2017final figure 3.
  4. https://www.gov.uk/government/statistics/reported-road-casualties-in-great-britain-annual-report-2018; first link
  5. The population of Italy at a census taken nine years ago (2011) was 59,433,744 (1), of which between one and two thousand is a tiny fraction.  In a census taken in the same year, the population of the UK was 63,182,000 – a little higher (2), meaning that the Italian deaths from coronavirus are similarly slightly higher proportionally to all the UK statistics quoted here.  Not being good with typing long numbers correctly, I haven’t tried to work out each figure as a percentage of the population to remove the approximate nature of the comparison – I’d probably make mistakes – but the figures to do it are here if anyone wishes to try it.  If you do, I’d be really interested to know what the answers are.

N.B. I am having trouble with links 2 and 3: the reference is what is in my address bar for those pages, but there seems to be something about it which I don’t understand.  However, searching for the relevant phrase should bring up the pages.

O Pelican

For the sake of giving expression to the intensity of the grief involved in the withdrawal of Communion in Both Kinds, and for the sake of anyone else who is suffering.

By the way, I do also appreciate that the clergy are making what they honestly think is the best decision under difficult circumstances, and I really appreciate the sympathy of those who have been sympathetic; however, I feel the perspective expressed here on that decision is also valid.  As far as I can make out, the evidence suggests that even actually sharing the chalice holds no risk of spreading anything.


O kind, self wounding Pelican, wherefore

Hast Thou withdrawn from us Thy breast?

Why forsaken dost Thou leave Thy young

Perishing for thirst of Thee within Thy very nest?


O stewards of His mysteries, where are your eyes?

That on remotest chance of sparing earthly life

Unwitting tempt your sheep toward the spirit’s death

And will not hear their anguished pleas for Life.


O Pelican, I would not have dreamed to say to Thee,

“Give me Thy Blood,” I said, “Do not deceive,”

And yet Thou gavest me Life and all Thyself.

Yet Life not given could not thus have grieved.


O Pelican, why hast Thou thus replaced Thy love

With mechanical rite of mere valid sense?

Why hast Thou withdrawn Thy covenant complete?

The outward sign of inward grace defence.


O Pelican, Forsaken One, remember, heal and spare,

For valuing what Thou gavest we bear uttermost contempt,

From valley of the shadow with despairing breath we plead,

To whom Thou hast promised no test beyond their strength.


Cherry Foster


To those suffering from the withdrawal of the Chalice – You Are NOT Alone

Pelican iconographic picture wikimedia commons copyright to attribution
A pelican wounding its breast to feed its young on its blood: a common image of the Eucharist. Photo source Wikimedia Commons; Photo Credit: Andreas Praefcke

I have spent today in the sort of tears that someone would expect upon the death of a close relation, as a consequence of the withdrawal of the Chalice over the coronavirus panic.  And I am unlikely really to be all right, or to feel other than utterly bereaved until Communion in both kinds is restored.  (If by then I have not learned to loathe the Eucharist and all that appertains to it due to my engagement with the Eucharist being the inadvertent cause of such overwhelming suffering – yes, I do endure that temptation).

While like most, if not all, people in my denomination, I believe it is valid to receive in one kind (i.e. only the Host), I value the Precious Blood intensely.  That is a good thing.  But it means valuing it whether or not it is convenient, or whether or not there is a crisis.  The Eucharist is the centre of my life – as it should be.  To suffer any diminishing or incomplete receiving of the gift is utterly devastating.

It is very difficult to tell, but I personally believe (and I am certainly not alone in believing) that the current response is a massive over-reaction to the reality of the current situation, which I find difficult because it causes me to feel that people are making nothing of my suffering.  To be caused to suffer like this because there was a real, known chance someone would die otherwise, is very different from being caused to suffer so intensely on the very remote off-chance.  Moreover, even in situations where it is appropriate to withdraw the sharing of the Chalice (i.e. when there is good quality evidence it is actually a risk), this does not have to mean withdrawing Communion in both kinds: there are at least three other ways of receiving that probably wouldn’t hold any risk of contamination*.

So to anyone else who feels it as deeply, and is distressed, and is being criticised for this by people who don’t experience it the same way, I can’t say anything that would be really comforting, any more than I could be comforted myself by anything other than a change of policy at least to return to Both Kinds, even if the Chalice was not restored in the normal manner.

But if it does anything to take the very slightest edge off your grief: You are NOT alone.  There are others of us who feel this with the same intensity.

Cherry Foster



See also my post “In Both Kinds?” for some more technical comments about the importance of receiving in both kinds.

*Using a set of gilded spoons and disinfecting them between people; using separate cups (which I believe the C of E objects to, though I’m not clear why); and for the priest (who should have scrubbed his hands anyway) to intinct the Host for each of the congregation (which I believe was actually the suggestion in the guidelines during the swine flu panic, though I’m not aware of any church that actually implemented it).

Edited to add: actually, does anyone know why the C of E objects to using separate cups?  After all, we usually use more than one chalice, and no one seems to object to the use of separate Hosts.  And it would be reasonable to argue that no reverent use of his gift in its fullness is less reverent than refusing part of it. (See the Church of England Book of Common Prayer, Oxford University Press, Page 305 – which cites the grief of spreading a feast only to have the guests refuse to come).

Not that I personally have any particular attachment to any specific alternative, only that one should be found.