蜜芽传媒

In a report published this week by Intergenerational England, a bleak picture was painted of our society in that we are increasingly separated not only by geography or wealth but by age. It鈥檚 said in the report that 鈥淭he UK is facing a stark level of age segregation, in where we live and how we connect online. This deepening divide fuels mistrust between generations.鈥�

Yesterday on this programme we were asked directly 鈥� how much time do you spend with someone of a different generation from you who is not in your family? And one of the statistics in this week鈥檚 report gave one answer: only 7% of care home residents spend regular time with anyone under 30.
Surrounded by the possibility of connection online and in person, we seem to be struggling to make it real, and the divide across the generations is yet another version of this.

Living in London as I do, I observe that the peaceful operation of a city depends on a high degree of cooperation across the generations: on the pavement, on public transport, in public spaces, parks, shops and cafes. But the loneliest place is in a crowd, when the people you can see, whose voices you can hear, are not people you know, let alone people you love.

The mother of Jesus, Mary, sang in her Magnificat that generations after her would look back and see that she had been blessed: her stance was towards the young, and her assumption was that this blessing was for all of them. This is intergenerational wisdom needed in a society struggling with patterns of living that have made us more distant, more liable to disassociate and therefore requiring more intention and effort to connect.

One of the most instructive intergenerational friendships in Scripture is shared by Christians and Jews. It is the story of Naomi and her daughter in law Ruth. Their fates tied together because of social and economic circumstance, and united in struggle and grief, they pledged across the generations because each recognised that their flourishing depended on the other.

What sort of society could we imagine if we were able to pledge our common humanity similarly today, whatever our age, as they did? If we intentionally sought out the stories and wisdom of those younger and older than us and pledged ourselves to listen well? We might be able to see one another as fellow travellers on the road, and be able to say, as Ruth said to the older Naomi: where you go, I will go. Where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God.

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