I’ve still got a lot to process and, I have to admit, I am one of the few who is least affected by the many changes happening around our world due to the Coronavirus pandemic. The quarantine restrictions are felt, but not felt as drastically as many of you may be feeling them. That being said, I still have found myself reflecting through how I can best respond to this historical moment. I can’t help but pay attention to the timing of all this-both in the calendar year and the liturgical year, now actually feels like a pretty appropriate time to have to go through this.
I love the four seasons, there is a beauty and a movement in each season that attracts me deeply. A few years ago, I was inspired to try to live and truly follow each season. In spring, I would try to pay attention to growth. I would try to help cultivate the earth, others, and myself to sprout and bloom in little ways. In summer, I would take advantage of the heat and energy; try to be outside and be brave about an adventure or two. In fall, I would start the process of shedding off unnecessary burdens. I would let go of that which weighed me down. In winter, I would mourn the losses, the big and little deaths. In winter, I would allow my body and soul to rest. I would stay inside and hibernate and not feel obligated to keep up the usual pace, as if the winter wasn’t sometimes dark and harsh.
This winter, however, felt pretty crazy with swim lessons, weekend trips, nine puppies, stomach bugs and holidays…the resting never happened. We have this modern ability to treat each season exactly the same- to never truly feel the heat or cold, to never let the sunset end our day early, to eat the same foods year round, to power through whatever storm, challenge or limit the earth tries to put on us.
The weekend before Ash Wednesday, my husband and I got 12 hours in a car together, so we had time to discuss how we wanted to live the upcoming Lent. I had found another volunteer opportunity that sounded really exciting. My husband, however, wisely responded with, “what if we just focus on the things we are always saying we want to focus on more?” I’ve been thinking about this a lot since the quarantine effects started happening. During Lent, we are invited to accompany Jesus into the desert, we are invited to walk with Jesus as he carries his cross. Too many times, this liturgical season ends and we begin the celebration of the resurrection and new life, and I’m not completely sure if I had really been in the desert with Jesus. The new season of Easter doesn’t always feel that different from the season before, because it all just flew by so fast. We have been somewhat forced into the desert abruptly. For many, it feels scary and overwhelming. I don’t want to minimize the significant struggles some of you are being asked to bear. But maybe, for those of us who are able, let’s embrace this desert for a while. Let’s do the resting that our souls probably never got this winter. Let’s mourn the losses that we’ve tried not to think about for some time. Let’s find out that we can still be profoundly happy without the entertainment, the exciting travel, the extra shopping. Let’s not just power through as if this season has not placed some serious limits on us. Let’s “focus on the things we are always saying we want to focus on more.” If we can’t do it now, when everything around us has stopped, we are foolish for thinking we will ever be able to do it. Then, when we come out of our cave of hibernation, we will appreciate and celebrate the new life around us.
Many years ago, I went on a five-day silent retreat. There was no talking. We had to find unique ways to say, “pass the salt.” Yesterday, a memory came to me. When the retreat ended and we were told we can talk again, the first thing we started doing was laughing! We laughed with these strangers with whom we’d just spent a silent five days. How beautiful, that after being deprived of speaking, the first sound we make is a joyful laughter. There is much we are currently being deprived of- some of it beautiful and some of it unnecessary. I hope when we are once again allowed these deprivations- we cling to the beautiful and let go, once and for all, of the unnecessary. Let us emerge from our cocoons as new people.