I can't tell exactly what we are more anxious about: the prospects about potentially becoming infected ourselves, of potentially infecting those who we care about, or the likelihood of some form of rationing and food/supply shortages. I went to the grocery store tonight and my mind immediately went to food insecurity during the Great Depression and needing to stand in line for hours to receive daily rations.
The Catholic perspective on all this is so curious because it is so honest about the reality of suffering. I've already written about hope, but what didn't go into that discussion was the Catholic answer to the question: why does a perfectly loving God allow suffering? Now, 11:30pm is hardly the time for me to engage that question with any veracity (nor am I equipped to give more than a basic and perhaps unsatisfactory argument). But at the very least I can wrestle with the painfully beautiful claim that God allows suffering and evil to bring about a greater good. In other words - God promises to redeem suffering, transforming it so that we can actually be grateful for whatever suffering we endure.
It is definitely an act of the will to accept that as a principle by which to live your life - within the greater Catholic framework, that is. You can't just say everything happens for a reason without a broader understanding of the world that can back up the belief. For example, unless there is an afterlife you can't honestly say you believe in the concept of universal justice. Similarly, unless God is the transcendent reality that sustains all creation can we say both that God is in control and that we have free will.
I think we can understand these things in the abstract and still want nothing to do with them in our lived reality. Because I would prefer this not to be happening, and in the moment it is impossible even to attempt to predict what greater good will come out of this. Then again, I'm sure the same was set of the black death; the fall of Rome; the suffering of innocent bystanders; so many other atrocities that weigh on us emotionally.
So on the one hand I do want to point out all the beautiful gifts that are already coming out of this virus:
- A return to simpler and slower lives
- The care of medical workers
- Upholding the dignity of every person, employed or unemployed
- Seeing how much we all touch each others' lives, and what we have been missing the past couple decades of loneliness and shallow friendships
- Remembering the importance of Mass, and especially of the Eucharist
- Incredible examples of pastors caring for their flocks in creative ways
But I can also imagine that those who have actually been directly affected by this virus - those who have been infected or have lost loved ones - aren't interested right now in seeing any redeeming value to something that has caused them so much pain. The question that seems appropriate is why did I have to be sacrificed for this greater good to come about? Why me?
I don't want to dismiss that question, because we worship a God who cried out My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? from the cross. We need to show so much support and compassion to those who are suffering, and platitudes just don't cut it. When confronted with suffering - especially the suffering of those we love - we don't want to see the silver lining; we just want it to stop.
But at some point we have to be confronted with the question of hope yet again: is God present in every moment or not? Is Emmanuel - God-with-us - the truth of how reality is configured? Is God truly benevolent? Do I trust my Father that He has my best interests in mind and is infinitely concerned with doing what it takes to demonstrate His love for me?
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I have this image I've been chewing on the past couple years, of Purgatory. Typically when we discuss it we are focused on the need for expiation of temporal punishment due to sins. But I'm convinced that what most of us need healing from is our relationship with Our Father. I think when we die, we will meet Saint Peter, who will hand us the million-page tome of our lives, with all the details filled in for how God was working in every moment. And our time in Purgatory will be spent reading the book, realizing for the first time So that's what He was doing there; I'm so thankful I went through that.
I know there is merit in simply trusting without seeing, and to some extent the onus is on us to accept the truth that God loves us; but God is merciful and tender and compassionate, and I sincerely believe He understands that we need His help to get to that point.
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