The world has been turned upside down.  Of that there is no doubt.

In a few short weeks we have stopped everything we love doing as a community, are unable to be with friends or extended family, have changed the way we work, or have lost jobs.  Children are mostly being educated online at home, and many of us who are lucky to have the Internet are turning to online communication tools and ways to occupy our time.  For Christians, the most painful sacrifice has been the inability to physically attend Mass and receive Jesus in the Holy Eucharist. 

We have had our ‘normal’ way of life disrupted.  We have been forced to adjust to something strange and new.

In many ways – and without any disrespect to those who are suffering with COVID-19 – we have all been holding our breath in fright.  What will happen next?  Will we beat this pandemic?  How long will these restrictions be in place?  When will we return to Mass, public gatherings, and so on?

Can we acknowledge and feel in our hearts that we must go to God? 

We are finding ways to function, and if most of us would admit it, we may also be struggling to cope.  So how do we learn to breathe again?  We are stronger than we think.

I have heard and read about some people who say that this is their ‘retreat’, they are loving it, and they are finding their inner monk by emulating communities, religious, and lay people of centuries ago who lived in caves or silent spaces. 

Although this is actually meant to be our joyous Easter season, it still feels like our time in the desert is being prolonged. We must hold onto the Easter light.  We must hold onto Christ.  For Christians, we have returned to our roots in forming small communities in our homes – our Upper Rooms – with Scripture and other resources to guide us.

We are each observing and participating in this experience through our own eyes.  Every person is processing the horror of this virus in ways which helps us to survive mentally, psychologically, and most importantly, spiritually. 

While we need to switch off the news every now and then, make time for silence and prayer, and look after our mental wellbeing, we also need days to allow the sadness to sit with us.  We need to grieve with those who are grieving.  So many people have died.  Thousands.  Numbers roll off the tongues of newsreaders but behind every number is a human face, a personal story, a crying family.  We cannot simply brush off the climbing figures we hear about and see.  We cannot hide under a rock while the world heaves in pain.

I am currently reading The Simple Faith of Mister Rogers: Spiritual insights from the world’s most beloved neighbor by Amy Hollingsworth.  For those in North America, you would be familiar with Fred Rogers and his long-running children’s television program, Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. 

Being a southern hemisphere resident, unfortunately I had never heard of Mr Rogers until I saw the film A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood starring the wonderful Tom Hanks as Mr Rogers.  Since then I have been reading about this beautiful man, Fred Rogers, his faith, and his philosophy.  A deeply compassionate man, he loved simply and simply loved.  He encouraged children – and the many adults who watched him – to be themselves, acknowledge their feelings, and do something constructive with those feelings.  Perhaps not by coincidence, I am up to the section of the book called “Difficult Times” and a chapter called “The Nature of Loss”.  I have cheekily flicked ahead and can see that Mr Roger’s answer – mirroring that of our Heavenly Father – is love.

But how can we see the love in this situation?

How can we see anything positive in this darkness?

How can we make sense out of so much death?

There is no sense in it.  Evil does exist.

But our answer is love.  It really is.

You see, it is through our tears, prayers, and holding onto the Man who died a painful, humiliating death on a Cross over two thousand years ago, that we who are left behind can start to gently breathe again.

If Christ is not the answer, then who is?

Who can we turn to now – of all times – if not Him?

He gasped for air on the Cross and cried out to God “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” (Matthew 27:46)

He knew that God loved Him and had not really abandoned Him, but in that moment of intense agony and suffering, all was darkness and nothingness.  His disciples had fled from Him – distanced themselves from Him, if you like – and were afraid.  But still He loved us and those who executed Him, to the very end.

This same Man, the Christ, is loving us right now.

To some it may seem like a lame answer – just pray and go to Jesus and all will be well, but whether we know it or not, Christ’s love is already at work during this pandemic:

• In the kindness of strangers providing food to those who are lonely.
• In the songs people are singing to each other online and on their streets and balconies.
• In the online and television resources and Masses which are available to us.
• In the times we can sit in the sun, breathe in the air around us, and be thankful for nature.
• In being thankful if we have food every day, a bed to sleep in, the gift of life and health.
• In connecting with others online if we can, or via a phone call or letter.
• In the man who gave away $100 to jobless people.
• In fill in the blank – whatever you can think of.

Please breathe again by taking the time to be gentle with yourself, know that there is still good in the world (search for positive coronavirus stories), look at the numbers of people who have survived this virus, soothe your pet, get a pet if you don’t have one, read positive books (such as the one I am reading above), read sacred Scripture, and think of other ways you can ease your heart and those of others.

There is hope. 
There will be tears. 
There will be more days of darkness and anger. 
But walk on.
We are stronger than we think.

Hmmm, I wonder what Mr Rogers would say…

When the Day turns into Night by Fred Rogers (more of his music)

When the day turns into night
And you’re way beyond my sight,
I’ll think of you, I’ll think of you.

When the night turns into day
And you still are far away,
I’ll think of you, I’ll think of you.

Even when I am not here
We still can be so very near
I want you to know my dear
I’ll think of you.

Image Credit:  Photo by Andraz Lazic on Unsplash.com