A little more than three months ago, we were all wishing one
another a Happy New Year. Who knew that
by March the entire world would seemingly come to a standstill? If a prophet had stood up on New Years Eve
and told us that before Easter all schools will be closed, Sunday Masses
suspended, and people confined to their homes, we would have wondered what kind
of catastrophe we were facing. I would
have thought maybe nuclear war or an asteroid hitting the earth. Instead, it’s a little microscopic germ that
has brought us to our knees. If only we had
such concern for the many more lives lost to abortion.
It was Christmas Eve when I was contacted by a Protestant
family who felt they were being called to the Catholic Church. As we got to know them and help them on their
journey, the exciting anticipation of the Easter Vigil took a sudden turn when
COVID-19 reared its ugly head. Now, the
timing of their reception into the Catholic Church is uncertain. Even our RCIA sessions have been
disrupted. We have tried to maintain a
connection but it has been difficult.
Watching Sunday Mass being live streamed from our parish has
been a new experience. We say the
responses, follow along with the readings, and stand at the proper times. Kneeling before the television just doesn’t
seem right so we don’t. Sitting on a comfortable
chair while listening to a homily at home is equally disconcerting. I catch myself sitting back, putting my feet
up and being far too relaxed. Having
this happen at the holiest time of the liturgical year just exacerbates the awkwardness.
I keep thinking of the Crucifixion scene in Ben Hur when the
sky darkens and the storm ensues with lightning flashes illuminating Jesus
hanging on the Cross. We see the rain washing the blood and water down Calvary hill
and the lepers suddenly realizing they have been cured. How would the world react if the Covid-19
virus suddenly disappeared on Good Friday at 3 o’clock?
