If Jesus Came in the Days of Covid-19....

N.B.: The following passages represent re-imagined moments from Scripture to speak to our present situation living with the repercussions of covid-19 and are meant primarily for the sake of humor.  No irreverence is intended.  The same cannot be said, however, for satire.

Jesus healed a woman who had been infirm for eighteen years and was criticized for it by the authorities who were afraid because He challenged the authority of their medical practice.  He then said to them:

"To what shall I compare the kingdom of God?  It is like to a coronavirus, which men took and released into the world, and it grew and spread through all the world and none could wipe it out, and wherever people went there were remembrances of it and it was the thought on everyone's mind and the first topic of every conversation." (cf. Luke 13:18-19)

Another time, Jesus was speaking to His disciples, instructing them that they must be prepared for scandals to come, but urging them not to scandalize anyone and to forgive everyone even should someone repeat the same sin seven times a day against them.  The disciples, not liking the hard work of virtue this would require, pretended to accept its reality and said to Him:

"Increase our faith."

He, however, recognizing how His words would lead to an explosion of virtue signaling as all began to speak of how they would forgive anyone without touching the forgiveness they indeed needed to offer, spoke again to bring their minds back to the true realities:

"If you had faith the size of a coronavirus, you might say to this skyscraper: 'Be lifted up and be transported into the desert,' and so it would happen." (cf. Luke 17:6)

Then as Jesus gathered for His last party with His disciples before He would suffer and be put to death and after giving them His body and blood under the form of bread and wine, He gave them instructions on how to live so they would not need to turn to self-help manuals.  He urged them not to seek positions of power and elected offices, but rather to be of no more regard than the homeless on the street, serving others and not thinking of themselves.

Seeing Simon Peter bursting with ideas for social reform and protests in favor of justice, Jesus said to him:

"Simon, Simon, behold Satan desires to have you that he may sift you all as with the testing for covid-19.  But I have prayed for you that your faith should not turn to fear of what may happen in this world and you, when you have been converted, must turn and strengthen your brethren." (Luke 22: 31-32)

Broken

It used to bother me that my statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary—which is quite lovely for being made of plastic—has part of the mantle chipped off on one side of her head.

It never bothered me as a child when my mom first gave me the statue to grace my little altar on my nightstand.  At least I have no recollection of it bothering me then.  It was only in more recent years that I found that imperfection annoying and considered finding a better statue.  Perhaps if money had been in greater abundance I would have done so; or perhaps it was more for sentimental reasons that I never sought another.  Either way, I kept the statue.

Then I ended up with a crucifix with Christ's left hand broken off.  I think the idea was that I might find a way to fix the fingers.

I never did.

Instead, the conjunction of the two broken religious items turned my mind reflecting upon my own brokenness.  Facing my imperfections has also left me frustrated.  Somehow I have an expectation that I must be perfect.

Scripture doesn't exactly help in that regard: "Be you therefore perfect, as also your heavenly Father is perfect." (Matthew 5:48)

Yet there lies the problem with translation.  If we read the text in Greek we would understand from the word τέλειος (teleios) the sort of perfection that means essentially achieving its proper end.  Therefore we are called not to lack brokenness (as we wish we could; at least I do and something tells me you shan't mind my including you in that statement), but rather through it to achieve the end for which we have been created: to know, love, and serve God in this life and be happy with Him in the next to use the words of the Baltimore Catechism.

So the two broken items remain as a constant reminder to me of that fact.  Both still serve their purpose of reminding me of Christ's death and of our Lady present there at the foot of the Cross.

Were their imperfections gone they could not do more to achieve that purpose.  Yet because of their brokenness they have given me a deeper reflection on the nature of reality and through this profound insight drawn me deeper into the mystery of God's love and providence in the most ordinary of circumstances.

Two Sparrows

Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and not one of them shall fall on the ground without your Father.
(Matthew 10:29)

It is particular fitting today, on this great Solemnity of All the Saints to ponder the above quotation, which speaks powerfully of the Providence of God.  So many great saints share a radical belief in that Providence and stand as examples for us.

The past decade has made it clearer and clearer to my mind and heart that I am called to live in radical abandonment to His Providence and to share that with the world.  Yet so we all are.

Modern life makes it so easy to forget that.  Everything around us—and indeed our own internal sense of responsibility and rightness—compels us to take care of ourselves.  We become fixated on taking care of everything from our health to our homes and properties.  Even our ministries and spiritual lives suffer from this reliance on our own capacities, our own knowledge, and our own vision of how things should be.

Yet we are called to more.  We are called to be saints.

To be a saint means not to be a great model or even to have heroic virtue, although saints often fulfill these qualifications.  In reality, to be a saint means to be completely reliant on the Providence of God poured out through everything and to be faithful to Him as He is calling us to serve Him in each moment.

It is the simplest and most difficult reality there could be, but also the most freeing.  Recently, I had an experience by His grace that brightly illuminated the latter reality for me.

I was traveling from the Toronto airport headed home.  I tried to allow more time at the airport than I needed, but little delays along the way added up and when I faced the long lines and the realization that I actually had to go through American customs there, my heart quailed a little within me.  Someone near me began fretting about missing her flight; she was told it was her lucky day and let through.  I wondered if I should worry.

In that moment, my Lord made it clear to me: I could worry, but worrying would gain me nothing, whereas the worst thing that could happen would be that I would miss my flight—not what I wanted in the least, but in the grand scheme of things fairly insignificant.  So I chose to accept that.  I told Him that He was in charge and that I would rely on His Providence.

From that moment on I had peace within me.  Any time the doubts or worries resurfaced, I merely gave them to Him again.

Well, when I walked up to the gate, handed the attendant my ticket, and then started walking toward the jet bridge, I heard the announcement for the last call for the flight.  As always, His timing was perfect.

As if that were not enough, I had to fly through Denver where He again showed me His Providence.  During my layover, I was sitting near my gate when two house sparrows alighted on the ground in front me.  My immediate thought was a negative one about this invasive species that had overtaken the country in some ridiculously short time after they were introduced from England.  (My resentment of the species stemmed from my fighting them to allow native birds to nest.  The house sparrows can be quite cruel, kicking out other birds and destroying their eggs and so on.)

Across the way from me sat a pilot who commented upon the birds, as did a couple of women a few seats down.  I spoke up, sharing that these were indeed male and female house sparrows (though restraining my resentment of that fact).  He then said they had made him think about a Scripture verse about the sparrow—a gentle rebuke to my own internal response.

We got talking and he mentioned something about Providence that led me to share with him the title of my favorite spiritual book I happened to have sitting on my lap, Abandonment to Divine Providence.  My description of it as the most eastern book of western spirituality I had read caught the attention of the two women down the way and one of them wanted to take a picture of the cover so she would remember it.  So I found myself a missionary of God's Providence once more.

The pilot and I continued our conversation.  I asked him of his journey to faith and then I shared mine with him.

When he left to go fly his plane, he said I had made his day—that God had made his day.

The meeting had clearly been orchestrated by God, and not just by sending the sparrows to us: the pilot had just happened to sit there rather than by the gate he would be flying out of and I had taken this flight which had not been my preference.  If either of us had done what made sense for us, we would not have met.  Yet somehow, without our intending it, we had allowed God once more to show His presence by our doing what we would not necessarily have chosen.

Fear not therefore: better are you than many sparrows. 
(Matthew 10:31)

We can never rely too much upon God our most loving Father.  Those who seem to rely too much upon God by refusing to act indeed trust not in Him but merely in their idea of Him, for He demands we give Him all in every moment.

Be not afraid to trust Him too much.

After all, He has everything in His hands. There is nothing He cannot do. It is only we who place limits upon what He will do by our need to be in control, our need to do things ourselves, like little children. And surely He smiles upon us, even when we run away from His Providence, for He knows that we run right into His arms....

A Lament of Hope

A friend pointed out that in my last post I did not talk about the victims of the current crisis within the hierarchy of the Church.  I noted it myself as I wrote it.

Yet what is there to say?

I know someone personally affected by some of these wolves in sheep's clothing.  He shared with me some of the impact it has had on his life, but I know that I have caught only a glimpse into the searing pain of it on his heart and soul.

Doubtless it is the same for the other victims.  For many, it is worse—much, much worse.  For my friend has his faith in God still and others have had theirs shaken.

In the face of this evil, there is only one thing I can say, even though I doubt whether I could speak it directly to any of those wounded by their sinful shepherds, for it takes a strong, strong faith to accept it.  In the end, though, there really is only one thing to say: God is greater.

We, with our finite minds, get caught up in the evils of the present age.  We see even our beloved Church being torn to shreds.  We see people leaving the Church, people losing faith in the priesthood, people aching with the pain of abuse and betrayal.  Then we begin to believe the lies of the enemy that these evils are irredeemable, that there is nothing we can do.  Subtly, our hearts become calloused and bitter.

Across the vast landscape of these evils, however, the Cross rises undeniable.  The Cross stands not for the condemnation it ought to represent, but for a sign of resurrection.

For there is no resurrection without death first.  There is no glory without passing through the valley of tears.

It is easy to say to others when we are experiencing prosperity that God will turn everything to good; it is much harder when we ourselves suffer.  Yet even then we barely give it lip service despite the promise of Scripture:

And we know that to them that love God, all things work together unto good, to such as, according to His purpose, are called to be saints. (Romans 8:28)

Do we believe that?  Do we really believe that God is all-knowing, all-powerful, and all-loving?  In short, do we really believe He is God?

If God is really who we believe He is, then He will fulfill that promise.  He will bring good out of the worst evil, as He brought our salvation out of the evil of being betrayed, condemned to death, abandoned by His friends, and dying the most horrific, painful death possible.

It is difficult to believe that those called to lead their flocks could so far lead them astray.  It is enough to make any question.

The worst of the current situation perhaps is that the victims are innocent.  Yet Christ too was innocent.

Only if we choose to believe that God really is the Lord of the universe can we find true solace in the midst of such incredible depravity.  Only if we accept His lordship over the world can we truly have hope that out of such corruption can be brought a greater good.  And how could an all-loving God allow such evil unless He could achieve through it a good beyond our imagining?

That is the hope we must choose to have.

The Prayer Battle

Do you ever struggle to pray?  It is far easier not to pray, to do the thousands upon thousands of things, duties and otherwise, that demand our attention.  We might even justify it as fulfilling the duty of the moment.

Prayer seems like such a simple action.  Yet somehow it demands more of us than anything else in our lives.

Lately, prayer and its various manifestations has been very much on my mind, but more on the subconscious level.  Scripture tells us to pray always.  In times of consolation that seems easy and prayer seems to flow as naturally as breath.  Yet in times of desolation it seems impossible to pray at all.

It is not only in the modern world that we experience the battle of prayer, however.  It is not because of the distractions of the computer and other technologies (although of course these don't help).  It really is part of the fundamental nature of the spiritual life that is so much a battle.  This fact came clear to me when I ran across a saying from the desert fathers that illuminates the reasons behind the battle of prayer that has gone on for centuries:

"The brethren asked him [Agathon] "Amongst all good works, which is the virtue which requires the greatest effort?"  He answered, "Forgive me, but I think there is no labor greater than that of prayer to God.  For every time a man wants to pray, his enemies, the demons, want to prevent him, for they know that it is only by turning him from prayer that they can hinder his journey.  Whatever good work a man undertakes, if he perseveres in it, he will attain rest.  But prayer is warfare to the last breath."  

The Sayings of the Desert Fathers

Clearly little has changed in regard to the struggles for prayer.  Perhaps the only change lies in the softness of our wills: we are little used to battle in these days of enlightenment and innovation.

We want what is easy and what feels good.  We imbibe from our culture the sense that what is right really does depend to a large extent upon what soothes our appetites.  We build up all these subtle machinations within ourselves to justify what we want to believe and to forget that we must deny ourselves, take up our cross daily, and follow Him.

But prayer is warfare to the last breath.