The numbers from the threat of the coronavirus feel like legion, prowling the earth seeking the ruin of our bodies, our families, and if we allow it, our souls. It’s not an exaggeration to say, we are in the boat in the midst of the storm, crying out, “Lord, save us, we’re perishing.”
Reading the news, looking at the reports and projections, the counsel and estimates of experts, it’s hard not to feel like we ought to be taking serious stock of our souls before the Lord. Lent is good for this, and this Lent more than ever.
However, it’s also true that Jesus is in the boat with us, no matter how bad the storm, and can use the storm to illustrate to us, how much deeper our trust in Him could be. We can always love our Lord more, even when, especially when we offer love because we can offer Him nothing else.
When we pray even in the midst of suffering, it is a gift. When we hope even in the midst of tragedy, it is a witness to the world of light. When we love, even when the world would suggest we should hunker down, look after our own and serve ourselves, it is a true witness of Christ to the world. Everything less, might be for our own selves, for our own gratification.
We are discovering in this long Lent brought on by the coronavirus in conjunction with the season, how quick we are to fear, how swift to fear, and suddenly we move from social distancing, to self-indulgent self-isolation for all the wrong reasons. If we stay under a bushel basket, no one will see our light, and no one will know anything but the storm.
This past weekend, we read aloud the Stations of the Cross, with most of my children gathered and taking turns leading us in the prayers. The last station, the laying of Jesus in the tomb, hit home as we weather this second week without the benefit of the Eucharist. Christ is with us, we know this is true from our faith. We know Christ will not abandon his bride, the Church, and yet right now, most of us feel very much like lost sheep, wanting the Good Shepherd to come pick us up, and carry us home.
Right now, we can pray for one another. We’ve cleared out the schedule. We can care for each other, there are no errands to run. We can serve each other, washing each other’s feet in big and little ways by kind words, simple acts of beauty, and forbearing the momentary irritations that come from each other’s idiosyncrasies.
We may not have the Eucharist via the Mass, but we are called to be Christ to one another, ergo, we must put love where there is fear, healing where there is hurt, comfort where there is loneliness, hope where there is despair, peace where there is rancor, and mercy wherever it is needed. We were created by God to be saints to this age, to these people, for this purpose. Let us go into our homes’ hearts, and fulfill that mission.
