In the beginning, was the Word, and the Word was with God,
and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came to be through him, and without him, nothing came to be
What came to be through him was life, and this life was the light of the human race; the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
As I took a shower a few moments ago, I was meditating on these words. At the beginning of it all, time itself, God spoke the Word, and through Him created all things. That means all the rules and laws that govern the universe, those things which science itself attempts to observe, were created and continue to be through Him. This hot water that pours out of my shower head is an invention of man, but the rules we discovered that allow us to create them are in a way God calling out to us. He is saying, “this is who I am. I am all that is good; I am that which, when followed, gives comfort and joy. “In every moment of every day, we can feel God’s caress. In the breeze that cools us in the summer. We find him in the grass that tickles our feet. We see his excitement at our existence in the puppy that wags its tail endlessly.
We have to be careful not to reduce Him to an impersonal force, though. As I sit here in my “Star Wars” shirt, I am all too aware that many see God as just some “it” that is governed by its laws. If His creation can trap God, then He isn’t God. That’s why we talk about God as three persons. Personal. Interactive. He is calling to us each day, every moment, in the silence of our hearts. In a time in which we are mourning our social freedoms, hearing His voice is all the more critical.
The Liturgy for the Mass on the Fifth Sunday of Lent says the following to us:
“Thus says the Lord GOD: O my people, I will open your graves and have you rise from them, and bring you back to the land of Israel. Then you shall know that I am the LORD, when I open your graves and have you rise from them, O my people! I will put my spirit in you that you may live, and I will settle you upon your land; thus you shall know that I am the LORD. I have promised, and I will do it, says the LORD.”
I, like so many of you, in the hours of solitude trapped in my room, experience some depression. All too often, we as Christians try to answer depression with cliches and platitudes. We tend to make those who are depressed feel as if there is no room for depression in the Christian life. Just a quick stroll through the Psalms will show you that there is room for the entire gymnasium of the soul in our faith. So what do we do when we are depressed? We use it as an opportunity to turn to God. His eternal commitment to bring us back out of the grave of quarantine to the community of worship.
It’s hard sometimes to think that life may never be the same again. Right now, everything is up in the air. When will graduations happen? How will work function in the future? Will all jobs start up again, or will many be lost permanently? Even those who believe should know it’s ok to ask questions. Look at the encounter with Jesus and Martha at the tomb of Lazarus from the Gospel.
“Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you.”
The pragmatic, working Martha did not mince words. She doesn’t understand why Lazarus had to die, or what is about to come. But she says something so many of us miss: “even now.” Even in the darkness of the death of her brother, she knows that God can work a miracle. At the brink of her despair, she clings to hope. That’s our hope as well. We must embrace Jesus in the darkness of forced solitude. The confidence which he gave to them is ours today. It’s ok to be sad. Don’t let anyone tell you that if you are depressed or feeling alone that you don’t have faith. Your emotions are valid, but how you respond to them is what matters the most.
While the world continues to reel in shock at the death of loved ones, and the isolation from the public square that we all are experiencing; faith is the rock that makes it bearable. Jesus wept. He loved his friend that much. Today throughout our diocese, the adoration chapels and Masses are closed to the public. We now experience in solidarity with those in the remote regions what it’s like not to have the convenience of daily Mass. Father Keith Romke posted a meme that said: “The Church isn’t empty, the Church is deployed.” What will you do with your deployment? Draw closer to Jesus, long for the day we can receive the Sacraments again, and reach out to one another through social media, telephone calls, emails, and letters. Someone out there needs to hear these words, even now.
A reflection on the readings for the Fifth Sunday of Lent: May 29th, 2020.