On New Year’s Day 2021, the whole world was hoping that we had put pandemics, isolation, political conflict, sorrow and death, disappointment, and depression behind us. But let’s face it, New Year’s Day is an artificial boundary. Nothing really changed. There is nothing magical about the so-called “new year.”

And truthfully, I was a little sad to see the end of 2020, not just because social interactions are a bit scary and uncomfortable for me; not just because COVID 19 gave me the perfect excuse to cocoon guilt-free. 2020 was a year in the wilderness for the whole world, and time spent in the wilderness is good for us. That’s where life becomes a matter of survival, where we are forced to recognize our true priorities, and where we must come to terms with who we really are.

I think we learned a lot from 2020.

We learned that evil is not an abstract. Evil exists and is at work in the world. Literally and metaphorically, it opposes everything that brings joy to our lives; it kneels on our throats and crushes the breath from our lungs. When evil is in charge, it manipulates our reality. It lies to us; it monopolizes our attention; it encourages hatred, violence, and chaos; it hoards its own wealth; it invades our most sacred places and sets its flag there.

We learned that good is not an abstract. Good exists and is at work in the world. Good tells us the truth; good is compassionate and kind; good works through love rather than fear, hatred, greed, or power. Good strives for peace and order, and encourages forgiveness. Good can and will triumph, though the fight may be long and uncertain.

We learned that standing up against evil requires great courage, a full, deep understanding of what is right, and the determination to do what is right despite the consequences. To stand up to evil, we must risk everything – our reputations, our jobs, our families, our friends, our political affiliations. Wealth, power, knowledge – none of these will save us. Only our hard-won integrity and faith will save us because even evil cannot destroy that.

We learned that we are not gods. Humans are not in control. The smallest, invisible work of creation can bring us down. 2020 has taught us humility. We have been bested by a virus. We are not lords of creation; just fellow creatures. If COVID 19 is a lion, we are gazelles stupidly wandering down to the river in the hot sun. Humility is a good lesson.

We learned that race does not make us immune to the virus. Nations mean nothing. Wealth and power, influence, celebrity, talent … all these mean nothing. Death and disease pays no attention to these things. At the same time, we witnessed how wealth and power can buy medicine and protection that is not available to the poor. Though we are all victims of the disease, some of us do not understand our responsibility to stand together and share what we have.

We learned that our strength comes from cooperating and working together. We gained the sure and certain understanding that, by supporting and caring for the weak and the vulnerable, we are caring also for ourselves.

We learned how we feed each other, and how we can support each other. We sewed masks and gowns; we sourced PPE for healthcare workers. We kept in touch with the lonely. We shared what we had. We left gifts on doorsteps, visited through windows, and sang songs in the open air.

We learned that the real bedrock of society is not wealth but service. Essential workers stock our grocery shelves, grow our food, keep our technology working, care for our elderly parents, minister to the sick, and remind us of what is beautiful and true.

We learned that time is a gift. We have all wished for more of it, thinking we did not have enough. In the end, we learned that it is how we use and spend our time that makes a difference.

We learned that families matter, and that home can be a refuge and strength. We learned the value of a 30-second hug … or any hug for that matter.

We learned that friends matter. They are a support system that cannot be replaced.

We learned how art is essential to our quality of life. We need music; we need stories; we need beauty. We need to dance and sing and to play. When we create it or when we consume it, art comforts us and inspires us.

We learned that nature is never spent. A walk in the forest or along a beach; a stroll through the neighbourhood; an hour spent planting or weeding; a paddle on a sunlit summer day, a ski on a snowy trail; a sunset from an apartment balcony; a few minutes on a park bench in the warm autumn sun – all these are restorative. Nature is a necessity; not a luxury.

We learned that knowledge from the past must be maintained. In a crisis, we need to know how to grow tomatoes, how to sew and to sow, how to plant, how to harvest, and, of course, how to make sourdough. We returned to the campfire and the wood stove and the raised garden. We remembered the verandah and porch. We chatted with our neighbours over our back fences. We dried our sheets in the fresh air. We packed picnics, and rediscovered parks in the midst of our cities.

We learned that, as a society, we are not powerless to fight a pandemic. We can deliver food to seniors. We can work from home. We can help our children learn remotely. We can stop travelling. We can visit outdoors. We can wear masks, and we can recognize our friends through their masks. We can fill up our food banks and cooperate to feed the hungry and homeless.

We learned that money is only important when it can be used to fight our enemies and support each other. In Canada, the government is spending wildly to keep people and businesses going. That is what money is good for.

We learned that our ingenuity as a species is a blessing when it helps us to stay connected. We can learn to do things differently. We can learn to use unfamiliar tools. Even at age 93, we can learn to use email and Zoom. We can adapt.

We learned that what is eternal cannot be destroyed.

2020 really was a good year for us. It was a year of growth. Let us remember its lessons well.