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Our family ear-worm at the moment is Eleanor Rigby by the Beatles. After hearing it in the car a few weeks ago, my eight-year-old has been captivated by it, learning the lyrics and singing the regular refrain Ah, look at all the lonely people. Constantly. I bet it’s in your head, too now. It’s 60 years since the song was released by the Beatles – on the album Revolver, and paired as a double-A side with Yellow Submarine. Laced with religious imagery, it’s a song about isolation and loneliness. Eleanor Rigby - an elderly woman who craves connection, picks up the rice thrown after a wedding, keeps make-up ready to wear in case anyone calls, and dies alone with no one at her funeral; and then there’s Father Mackenzie, a socially-isolated priest, writing sermons that no one comes to listen to. It is a heartbreaker of a song that speaks right into this moment in which so many report feeling lonely in a world that gives us the illusion of interconnectivity through technology. An illusion that can even deepen the sense of isolation. And it’s not just among the elderly, the Children’s Commissioner Dame Rachel de Souza’s report published yesterday described a postcode lottery of provision for young people, with some local authorities spending absolutely nothing on youth services. It paints a picture of young people being forgotten by their communities, of children in care being moved far away from the families and social networks that might give them a chance of lasting connections. Another study published by the government in August found that a third of 10 to 19-year-olds felt alone or lonely some of the time. In their different ways Eleanor Rigby and the Children’s Commissioner’s report tell a profound story of what happens when communities allow people – whether young or old – to be forgotten, rendered invisible. Psalm 68 describes God as ‘placing the lonely in families’ – suggesting that the solution to loneliness isn’t just about proximity or provision of services, but being knitted into relationship with others, being seen, known and held. Christians take comfort in the idea that – even those who are rejected, ignored or invisible to those around them are seen by God. The Bible is full of these stories. Jesus notices Zacchaeus, a man despised by his community, hiding up a tree, and invites himself over for dinner. When the disciples try to turn children away, Jesus insists: ‘Let the little children come to me.’ And Hagar, an enslaved woman cast out into the wilderness, calls God El Roi – the God who sees me. Again and again, the unseen are brought into the centre of the story. My son might simply enjoy the tune of Eleanor Rigby. But in his love of the song, I see something else: a reminder that every generation needs to be noticed, valued and known.
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