“As they were about to part from him, Peter said to Jesus,

‘Master, it is good that we are here;

let us make three tents,

one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.’

But he did not know what he was saying.

While he was still speaking,

a cloud came and cast a shadow over them,

and they became frightened when they entered the cloud.

Then from the cloud came a voice that said,

‘This is my chosen Son; listen to him.’”

March 16th, this week, will mark the two year anniversary of the suspension of public masses in the Archdiocese of Louisville. Two years ago, in an historic moment and facing the spread of a worldwide pandemic, our buildings closed to the public. We began to reinvent how to be the church, journey with others in the midst of uncertainty, and meet the spiritual and physical needs of social isolation and economic challenges. In short order, we did many things we had never done before. We had phone calls to the isolated, gift cards for the poor, streamed masses, reflections, and vlogs, and physically distant opportunities for prayer and blessing. In the early days, we didn’t know what the death rate would be, how serious an economic collapse could be, or if the fabric of our society would be shred apart. It was an anxious time. In the extreme, I had contemplated how the church could go underground, what it might mean for us to offer a means of survival in the midst of a greater societal collapse, how our facilities may be utilized to ease the suffering of the sick or the dying, and how I may be called to give my life in bringing the sacraments to those in need. Thanks be to God, the worst case scenario did not happen. 

We have still suffered great loss. Personally, a friend who was in Boy Scouts with me when I was younger and my own uncle both died from Covid. We may never know the true death toll from this virus itself, its effect on the health care system, and the unintended consequences of isolating from one another. We have also suffered the loss for a time of the rituals that ground us in our grief at a loved one’s death, our joy at life’s significant moments of love, achievement, or new life, and even our daily balance that brings health, resilience, and purpose. We have changed and, on some level, we all need healing or, maybe, rehab. It will take us a while to get to where we need to be. We will never really go back to where we were, but we can go forward to better selves, relationships, and lives. It will take time to cultivate healing, strength, compassion, connection, service, and love. Patience, they say, is a virtue. 

At our first 29th annual award winning fish fry at St. Pats just over a week ago, the energy was amazing. The buzz of conversation, kids playing, laughter, and work was like hearing a favorite song I hadn’t heard in a long time. I wanted to soak it in. I thought a similar thought to St. Peter, “It is good that we are here.” Peter got that part right. It is true for us, as well, with all that we have been through and have lost, it is good for us to be here in this moment with each other. When Peter wanted to stay there, then, he didn’t know what he was saying. Jesus was on a mission and they had to keep moving. We, too, must continue to move forward, tend to our healing and growth, trust in God’s love and providence, and be about our mission. God is with us in the journey. As we continue our Lenten season, may we listen to him.