Dear Sisters and Brothers in Christ,
Ten days ago, a cousin who lives outside New York City sent a reflection about living for eight weeks in isolation. Her descriptions of anxiety and fear, anger and confusion, gratitude and soul-searching portray rather accurately the experience we share with one another and with the world of grief. Elisabeth Kubler Ross outlined these stages many years ago and emphasized that we progress back and forth through these stages throughout the process of grief. This past week, I presided at the burial of an elderly parishioner who died of COVID 19; only the priest, the funeral directors and cemetery personnel were permitted to come to the grave. Despite the generosity of many, people in our city (perhaps even neighborhood) struggle to put food on the table for their children. Just when we seem to have reached a plateau of peace, feelings of anger and fear re-emerge. We have all lost a way of living, working and worshipping. Our future modes of being will be different.
Jesus was well aware that his disciples were confused, depressed, and perhaps angry by his words of farewell; but he consoled them by saying: “I will not leave you orphans.” (John 14, 18) Chief among these followers of Jesus was Peter. His actions in the high priest’s courtyard and after the crucifixion of Jesus describe a weak and fearful man. After having received the promised “advocate,” Peter was a changed person and, in turn, encouraged the early Christian community with these words: “Always be ready to give an explanation to anyone who asks you for a reason for your hope.” (1 Peter 3, 15)
During these days of confinement, I have spent significant time reflecting on stories of conversion (Avery Dulles, Thomas Merton, Gerard Manley Hopkins and John Henry Cardinal Newman). I am fascinated by such accounts because they remind me that coming to awareness is a process. On his way to the monastery, Thomas Merton received a notice that the draft board wanted him to appear for a second medical exam. It was 1943. As much as he felt called to the monastic life, Thomas described a peace with whatever would happen. As the door closed behind him upon his arrival at the monastery, he described the world as he had known it as having died. In a sense, isn’t that what happened when we re-affirmed our faith at Easter? My cousin described a moment when she had to re-assess the very meaning of her life. We who follow Christ are challenged to give reasons for persevering in hope. Hope springs from a relationship that is secure and life-giving and enables us to explore new places and modes of being. What else would have given Philip the confidence to go to Samaria – a land that Jews dared not enter? How could he have dared to perform exorcisms and healings? Where has God empowered you in the past and what are you begging of God today?
The gospel passage we hear today not only encourages us that Jesus will not leave us orphans, but also describes how we are being brought into the very life of God! “Whoever loves me will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our dwelling with him.” (John 14, 23)
Yours in the Risen Lord,
Fr. Bill Foley