Memories

Dear Friends,

It occurs to me that this week marks the anniversary of the onset of the pandemic, or at least our awareness of it. I don't take any joy in observing that. The last year has been among the hardest most of us have known. Mourning is appropriate, of course, as is hope—hope that we are possibly (probably?!) moving out of the worst of this and toward something like life as normal.  But a year does bring about an occasion for reflection, doesn't it?

One interesting feature of social media helps in doing some of this reflection. You can look at "Memories" to see what photos, thoughts, or posts you were sharing a year ago. My suspicion is that many of us will find things about our posts, or if you aren't on social media, your thoughts and feelings and words from a year ago, that haven't quite lined up with reality.

That's okay, none of us had a crystal ball. I mean, I put out a video that said we'd be back in church together after a couple of weeks!

But what I'm really reflecting on is what will show up in those "Memories," or maybe just our memories, in the coming days—the destructiveness of conversations about the virus that started a year ago and have continued to the present. People refusing to have empathy toward those who come from a different place. For instance, those who were able to do their jobs from home being incredibly judgmental toward those who just weren't, for whom the idea of lockdown was a truly life-threatening possibility. Or, conversely, people labeling others as “sheep” or fearful who thought the decision to hunker down for a bit was prudent and have continued to act accordingly.

It's not that every decision has equal value. There is, of course, a scientific consensus on these sorts of things. That matters. The virus is real.  Masks help. The vaccine is a blessing. Our decision-making at church has been based on the science and will continue to be.

But there are also the very real people who made different decisions than you did, who feel differently today than you do. In some cases these different decisions led to divisions that have resulted in broken relationships and friendships.

These cracks aren't just the result of a virus and our reactions to it, of course. They happen for a whole host of reasons. But I wonder if this anniversary, when we might be confronted by some of our own errors and miscalculations right along with our own need to proceed with just a bit of humility, might be a good time to think through all the places in our lives that reconciliation might be possible.

What I mean is that, if nothing else, this year should teach us something about the fragility of life, and thus the fragility of our relationships. This year should teach us about our need for connection and thus the pain that dissolution can cause. This year should teach us about the power of love to transcend the distance between us.

So maybe mark this year with that knowledge. Maybe call someone you've wronged. Maybe call someone who has wronged you. Maybe realize that our divisions took time to show themselves and reconciliation will also take time.

Walk that long road anyway. Because this year has taught in concrete ways the words of the blessing we sometimes use: "Life is short, and we do not have much time to gladden the hearts of those who walk the way with us."

God bless,
Fr. Quinn+