April 19,2020

Pope Francis gave this marvelous meditation in St. Peter’s Square at the end of March in conjunction with giving the Urbi et Orbi Blessing during the ravages occurring from the Coronavirus pandemic. It still has excellent reflection for us right up to the present day.

“When evening had come” (Mk 4:35). The Gospel passage we have just heard begins like this. For weeks now it has been evening. Thick darkness has gathered over our squares, our streets, and our cities. It has taken over our lives, filling everything with a deafening silence and a distressing void that stops everything as it passes by. We feel it in the air, we notice in people’s gestures, their glances give them away. We find ourselves afraid and lost. Like the disciples in the Gospel, we were caught off guard by an unexpected, turbulent storm. We have realized that we are on the same boat, all of us fragile and disoriented, but at the same time important and needed, all of us called to row together, each of us in need of comforting the other. On this boat are all of us. Just like those disciples, who spoke anxiously with one voice saying, “We are perishing” (v. 38), so we too have realized that we cannot go on thinking of ourselves, but only together can we do this.

It is easy to recognize ourselves in this story. What is harder to understand is Jesus’ attitude. While his disciples are quite naturally alarmed and desperate, he stands in the stern, in the part of the boat that sinks first. And what does he do? In spite of the tempest, he sleeps on soundly, trusting in the Father. This is the only time in the Gospels we see Jesus sleeping. When he wakes up, after calming the wind and the waters, he turns to the disciples in a reproaching voice: “Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?” (v. 40).

Let us try to understand. In what does the lack of the disciples’ faith consist, as contrasted with Jesus’ trust? They had not stopped believing in him; in fact, they called on him. But we see how they call on him: “Teacher, do you not care if we perish?” (v. 38). Do you not care: they think that Jesus is not interested in them, does not care about them. One of the things that hurts us and our families most when we hear it said is: “Do you care about me?” It is a phrase that wounds and unleashes storms in our hearts. It would have shaken Jesus too. Because he, more than anyone, cares about us. Indeed, once they have called on him, he saves his disciples from their discouragement.

The storm exposes our vulnerability and uncovers those false and superfluous certainties around which we have constructed our daily schedules, our projects, our habits and priorities. It shows us how we have allowed to become dull and feeble the very things that nourish, sustain and strengthen our lives and our communities. The tempest lays bare all our prepackaged ideas and forgetfulness of what nourishes our people’s souls: all those attempts that anesthetize us with ways of thinking and acting that supposedly “save” us, but instead prove incapable of putting us in touch with our roots and keeping alive the memory of those who have gone before us. We deprive ourselves of the antibodies we need to confront adversity.

In this storm, the façade of those stereotypes with which we camouflaged our egos, always worrying about our image, has fallen away, uncovering once more that (blessed) common belonging, of which we cannot be deprived: our belonging as brothers and sisters.

“Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?” Lord, your word this evening strikes us and regards us, all of us. In this world, that you love more than we do, we have gone ahead at breakneck speed, feeling powerful and able to do anything. Greedy for profit, we let ourselves get caught up in things, and lured away by haste. We did not stop at your reproach to us. We were not shaken awake by wars of injustice across our world, nor did we listen to the cry of the poor or of our ailing planet. We carried on regardless, thinking we would stay healthy in a world that was sick. Now that we are in a stormy sea, we implore you: “Wake up, Lord!”

“Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?” Lord, you are calling to us, calling us to faith. Which is not so much believing that you exist, but coming to you and trusting in you. This Lent your call reverberates urgently: “Be converted!”, “Return to me with all your heart” (Joel 2:12). You are calling on us to seize this time of trial as a time of choosing. It is not the time of your judgement, but of our judgement: a time to choose what matters and what passes away, a time to separate what is necessary from what is not. It is a time to get our lives back on track with regard to you, Lord, and to others. We can look to so many exemplary companions for the journey, who, even though fearful, have reacted by giving their lives. This is the force of the Spirit poured out and fashioned in courageous and generous self-denial. It is the life in the Spirit that can redeem, value and demonstrate how our lives are woven together and sustained by ordinary people—often forgotten people—who do not appear in newspaper and magazine headlines nor on the grand catwalks of the latest show, but who without any doubt are in these very days writing the decisive events of our time: doctors, nurses, supermarket employees, cleaners, caregivers, providers of transport, law and order forces, volunteers, priests, religious men and women and so many others who have understood that no one reaches salvation by themselves. In the face of so much suffering, where the authentic development of our peoples is assessed, we experience the priestly prayer of Jesus: “That they may all be one” (Jn 17:21). How many people every day are exercising patience and offering hope, taking care to sow not panic but a shared responsibility. How many fathers, mothers, grandparents and teachers are showing our children, in small everyday gestures, how to face up to and navigate a crisis by adjusting their routines, lifting their gaze and fostering prayer. How many are praying, offering and interceding for the good of all. Prayer and quiet service: these are our victorious weapons.

“Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?” Faith begins when we realize we are in need of salvation. We are not self-sufficient. By ourselves we flounder, we need the Lord, like ancient navigators needed the stars. Let us invite Jesus into the boats of our lives. Let us hand over our fears to him so that he can conquer them. Like the disciples, we will experience that with him on board there will be no shipwreck. Because this is God’s strength: turning to the good everything that happens to us, even the bad things. He brings serenity into our storms, because with God life never dies.

The Lord asks us and, in the midst of our tempest, invites us to reawaken and put into practice that solidarity and hope capable of giving strength, support and meaning to these hours when everything seems to be floundering. The Lord awakens so as to reawaken and revive our Easter faith. We have an anchor: by his cross we have been saved. We have a rudder: by his cross we have been redeemed. We have a hope: by his cross we have been healed and embraced so that nothing and no one can separate us from his redeeming love. In the midst of isolation when we are suffering from a lack of tenderness and chances to meet up, and we experience the loss of so many things, let us once again listen to the proclamation that saves us: he is risen and is living by our side. The Lord asks us from his cross to rediscover the life that awaits us, to look towards those who look to us, to strengthen, recognize and foster the grace that lives within us. Let us not quench the wavering flame (cf. Is 42:3) that never falters, and let us allow hope to be rekindled.

Embracing his cross means finding the courage to embrace all the hardships of the present time, abandoning for a moment our eagerness for power and possessions in order to make room for the creativity that only the Spirit is capable of inspiring. It means finding the courage to create spaces where everyone can recognize that they are called, and to allow new forms of hospitality, fraternity and solidarity. By his cross we have been saved in order to embrace hope and let it strengthen and sustain all measures and all possible avenues for helping us protect ourselves and others. Embracing the Lord in order to embrace hope that is the strength of faith, which frees us from fear and gives us hope.

“Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?” Dear brothers and sisters, from this place that tells of Peter’s rock-solid faith, I would like this evening to entrust all of you to the Lord, through the intercession of Mary, Health of the People and Star of the stormy Sea. From this colonnade that embraces Rome and the whole world, may God’s blessing come down upon you as a consoling embrace. Lord, may you bless the world, give health to our bodies and comfort our hearts. You ask us not to be afraid. Yet our faith is weak and we are fearful. But you, Lord, will not leave us at the mercy of the storm. Tell us again: “Do not be afraid” (Mt 28:5). And we, together with Peter, “cast all our anxieties onto you, for you care about us” (cf. 1 Pet 5:7).

 

SECOND SUNDAY OF EASTER

 

The Resurrection’s transforming power is apparent in today’s readings. In the Gospel, the frightened disciples are changed as Jesus enters the room in which they are hiding. With the greeting Shalom, Jesus offers them blessings on every dimension of their being. This blessing, translated as “Peace be to you,” communicates God’s mercy. Jesus goes further by extending the gift of the Holy Spirit to his disciples, saying, “Receive the Holy Spirit. Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them.” The Spirit’s power transforms their lives, enabling them to extend God’s mercy and forgiveness to those who seek it.

 

The Risen Lord still bears the marks of his crucifixion. He is always the wounded Christ, as the Book of Revelation relates (5:6). The Apostle Thomas is not present on this occasion and refuses to believe the witness of the other disciples. A week later Thomas is present when the Risen Lord appears again. There, Thomas makes a profession of faith as he says, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus responds by blessing those who have not seen and yet believed.

 

The reading from Acts offers an insight into the life of that first Christian community transformed by the Risen Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit. United in Spirit, they shared their possessions, and no one was in need. They present the ideal Christian community open to God’s grace.

 

Peter, in the Second Reading, uses the form of a Jewish blessing to praise God. These words remind people today of the Risen Christ’s new life received in Baptism. “Although you have not seen him, you love him” are the most reassuring words addressed to us today.

 

In the Second Reading, Peter tells his followers that they will “suffer through various trials” so that the genuineness of their faith will be proved. By keeping the faith through trials, these followers practice fortitude. The Catechism of the Catholic Church states: “The virtue of fortitude enables one to conquer fear, even fear of death, and to face trials and persecutions. It disposes one even to renounce and sacrifice his life in defense of a just cause” (#1808).

 

The Gospel proclaims that Jesus breathed on the Apostles, giving them the power to forgive and to retain sins. The Catechism notes the power that the Risen Lord possesses. “Jesus, ‘the author of life,’ by dying destroyed ‘him who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and delivered all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong bondage.’ Henceforth the Risen Christ holds ‘the keys of Death and Hades,’ so that ‘at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth’” (#635).

 

For Your Reflection: How does the way you live reflect your belief in Christ? Listen to Christ offering you peace. How are you affected? For what can you give thanks to God this week?

 

ANOTHER PRAYER DURING THE PANDEMIC

 

May we who are merely inconvenienced

            Remember those whose lives are at stake.

May we who have no risk factors

            Remember those most vulnerable.

May we who have the luxury of working from home

            Remember those who must choose between preserving their health or making their rent.

May we who have the flexibility to care for our children when their schools close

            Remember those who have no options.

May we who have to cancel our trips

            Remember those who have no safe place to go.

May we who are losing our margin money in the tumult of the economic market

            Remember those who have no margin at all.

May we who settle in for a quarantine at home

            Remember those who have no home.

As fear grips our country, let us choose love.

During this time when we cannot physically wrap our arms around each other,

Let us yet find ways to be the loving embrace of God to our neighbors. AMEN.

 

A CHUCKLE FOR THE EASTER SEASON

 

A patient was waiting nervously in the examination room of a famous specialist.

 

“So who did you see before coming to me?” asked the important doctor.

 

“My local General Practitioner, Dr. Cohen.”

 

“Your GP?” scoffed the doctor. “What a waste of time. Tell me, what sort of useless advice did Dr. Cohen give you?”

 

“He told me to come and see you!”