Today there is no lack of spirituality despite the scourge of Coronavirus. On the contrary, the internet is booming with articles, blogs, and YouTube videos offering spiritual guidance or purporting to explain the pandemic. I know because I’ve been there myself. Frequently. I’ve also reached out to spiritual directors, attentively followed the homilies and reflections during the extraordinary papal events, and fervently asked God in prayer… all to make sense of what’s happening right now. But, to be honest, I don’t have much clarity. Italy, where I live with my family, was hit early and hard. When we went into lockdown forty-six days ago (at time of publication), we were the first country in the western world to do so. All businesses, factories, and shops were shut down with the exception of a narrow range of “sectors” considered vital related to food or medicine production or distribution. Most Italians are forbidden to leave their homes with only a few exceptions (grocery shopping or the pharmacy). Violating the decree can result in a steep €5000 ($5500) fine, confiscation of vehicle, and up to 90 days in prison. Perhaps the most dramatic part of the decree – for those of us accustomed to an active faith life -- is the restrictions on the Church. Church doors can remain open, but the ban on “assembly of persons” necessitates the suspension of all Masses and the reception of sacraments in any form. There is no exception even for baptisms, weddings, or funerals. The lockdown that was initially supposed to last just two weeks – the time of the incubation period to reveal who had the virus – is going on two months… And there is no end in sight.
In what may be perhaps the cruelest aspect of the scourge, the dying are prohibited from being visited by anyone – from family members to a chaplain. The body is sealed in an air-tight bag and sent directly to the funeral home where the undertaker places the body in a coffin still wearing the hospital gown. At present, details of Phase Two are being hammered out. No one, however, knows where this is going. Yet, one thing appears certain: life will not be the same for a long time for a lot of people. It seems that life will not return to normal until a vaccine is developed, which could be well into 2021. In the meantime, we will have to learn to cohabitate with the virus. And during that time, non-essential businesses (such as hotels, transportation) will likely remain shut. And this is what is forcing me to reach out and seek what God wants in this: there is the real likelihood that travel (and as a consequence, our livelihood) will be shut for a year or two to come. Further, the fact that my situation is not that dire only adds to my sense of unease. Neither I nor anyone I know is sick let alone at risk of death. I’ve been prudent with my finances and, as a result, have savings my family can fall back on for a while. We’re privileged with a decent sized apartment and have plenty of devices to keep us “connected.” I would love to report that I am joyfully embracing the opportunities during this trial: to practice more authentic Franciscan “simplicity”; to offer this up as co-redemptive suffering; to channel my inner Mary and relinquish my innate tendency toward Martha busyness; to practice more charity toward Katia and the kids as well as elderly neighbors who cannot go out; to look to the example of Sts. Francis and Clare in contemplation; to pray more. Yet, the truth is that I do not have peace. Or I should say it comes and goes. Despite the difficulties and uncertainties, I can say with absolute conviction, however, that I trust with all my heart in the abiding presence of the Lord. A prayer I’ve turned to in periods of distress or grave uncertainty in my life is that of the Cistercian mystic and contemplative, Thomas Merton: ------------------------------------------------------------------ My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this, you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Psalms resonate, too. Though, I have in the past sometimes judged the Psalmist’s emotional oscillations as melodramatic, today they strike a different chord. During this Easter season, Psalm 22 in particular has been a source of consolation. What begins with an anguished lament, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me” (v. 2) opens to praises (vv. 23-24; 26-27) midway and concludes with recollections of past deliverance and hope for the future generation. Pope Benedict, in his writings and talks, related this Psalm to Christ’s crucifixion and glory. As is well-known, Christ’s final words on the cross repeated this same phrase from Psalm 22. In the Jewish custom, by citing the first words of a Psalm, Pope Benedict taught, was a reference to the entirety of it. Though in the most acute moment of his Passion, Christ’s expression of forsakenness was a sign of the praise to come, or, more specifically, his glorification. The abandonment of Good Friday would be soon followed by the Easter Resurrection. During this time of uncertainty, may the journey of Christ from his Passion at Golgotha to the Easter glorification be our hope. Though the Lord may appear absent, may we continue to praise him all the more and always be mindful of the joy and glory that awaits us when we put our faith and hope in him.
3 Comments
Sylvan Thuente, OFS
4/14/2020 11:17:51 am
Pax et Bonum, Bret, it is wonderful to follow your publishings. Keep on keeping on. I pray that when this wake-up-call is over we continue to progress instead of reverting to our prior practices.
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Janice Wear
4/14/2020 02:36:59 pm
Very meaningful. Thank you.
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Joan Neff
12/13/2020 11:35:08 am
wonderful requires second reading to absorb it all but well worth it
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Bret ThomanCatholic. Franciscan. Married. Father. Pilgrim guide. Writer. Translator. Pilot. Aspiring sailor. Archives
April 2024
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