April may well be our darkest of times. But then, some hope

The calamity that has befallen us is an opportunity to press the reset button on our lives and our nation.

I understand that many are worried and even frightened by what lies ahead. I think we all are. Parents are worried for their kids. Young adults are worried about their parents and their grandparents. Even young kids pick up on the notion of adult fear.

If it is any consolation, I think that while April may well be our darkest of times, it will be followed by a rising sense of hope about the future. Within a month I think we will see a glimmer of light at the end of a long and painful tunnel. For the time being, however, we need to hold fast, stick together (metaphorically speaking), have faith in our leadership, in our essential workers, in the intrinsic goodness of our fellow Australians, and push forward.

The daily tally of infections and deaths is likely to rise sharply during April before it begins to slow as a consequence of the lockdown and other defensive measures. But at some point, hopefully before the end of April, the curve will begin to flatten and we will be more confident about what lies beyond. This is not unlike a bushfire: it is terrifying when raging, but cometh the rains and almost immediately we have at least the hope of containment.

I also think the way we report the daily tally of infections and deaths will change. Alongside the rise in daily deaths we will (or we should) highlight the number of recoveries. At some point the death rate will slow and the recovery rate will rise; that simple juxtaposition of figures will give us hope.

It has taken a month to truly understand the scale of the challenge that stands before us. Throughout April we will begin to adapt to our new circumstances and find innovative ways to communicate, to smile, to help each other, to work remotely, to earn a living. We will get used to or, at the very least, make the best of our horrible situation.

And then there is Australia’s secret weapon in fighting the coronavirus: the fact that our cities are simply less densely packed than the cities of Asia and Europe. We have more room to move; there’s less scope to bump into each other and spread the infection. Plus, millions of Australians have access to a backyard. This singular attribute of suburban life could turn out to be critical in enabling many of us to better cope with the idea of a long lockdown.

The calamity that has befallen us is an opportunity to press the reset button on our lives and our nation. All prejudices, grudges and preconceptions – petty politics – must be put aside. It is an opportunity for the church to be recast as a place of refuge and comfort for the frail and the frightened. Big business and in particular the banks have the chance to step forward and use their resources and expertise to help the Australian people.

Now to the concept of personal growth. During this month and beyond I think the very concept of love will change. It has nothing to do with sex; it has everything to do with the far nobler attributes of giving and sacrifice. Love in the time of contagion includes a parent’s love for their child, the caring love of a neighbour, the complete randomness of supporting a stranger in need and the selfless giving of frontline health and other essential workers to their communities.

I now better understand the solemnity and meaning of the Digger’s gut-wrenching refrain that begins “greater love hath no man”. To tweak that revered phrase: “Greater love hath no Australian than giving to others in their time of greatest need.”